The Third Saint
by Heart of a Dixon
Summary: There was a third saint. But it was a girl. A girl which one MacManus brother was particularly fond of. MurphyXOC because there just arent enough of those. Follows the storyline.
1. Saint Patty's Day

KIRA'S POV:

I sighed and sat down on the bar stool.

"Hey, Kira!" Connor yelled, getting up from his stool and running around to behind me. He wrapped his arms around my stomach and lifted me up off the stool.

I laughed despite my mood and said, "Put me down, Connor."

He chuckled and put me back down.

Murphy was the next to grab me up. "Kira!" He picked me up and spun around.

I squealed and held onto him for dear life. Damn MacManus boys.

He laughed and set me down.

"Come on, Kira, perk up. Its St. Patty's Day! You're Irish, how're ya not ecstatic?" Connor asked, sitting back down.

"We were packed at work today," I answered, yawning and leaning against the bar.

"Hey, Doc," Murphy called to the old man behind the bar. "Get Kira a Guinness."

A pint was set in front of me.

I smiled gratefully up to the old man and took a gulp.

I was a waitress at a diner on the corner beside the building the MacManus brothers and I lived in. We lived in an all-Irish neighborhood, so it had been overflowing with customers today. I still had my uniform on, apron and all, because I knew if I went back home to change, I would fall into bed and forget about my plans to meet Rocco and the boys here at McGinty's. I had been friends with the MacManus brothers and David Della Rocco for almost 5 years now. The boys were workers for a meat packaging plant and Roc worked for the mafia. It kind of bothered me that he did, because I knew to them he was an expendable. I knew it was dangerous and I didn't want to see anything happen to him.

"Hey, where's Roc?" I asked Murph.

Just as I asked, the door opened and in came our shaggy-haired, beard-faced friend. "Hey, Fuck-ass, get me a beer!" Everyone in the bar gave cheers and gave Rocco some affectionate hair ruffles, back pats, and arm punches.

About an hour later, we were all drunk and most of the bar was empty besides the row of guys (and me) at the bar. We were all laughing at pretty much nothing and leaning heavily on the bar.

"Listen guys, I've got some bad news," Doc said, quieting the bar patrons. "I'm gonna have to close down th-th-th-the bar."

I felt my heart sink. This place was like a home away from home. It was like a little piece of Ireland right in the middle of South Boston. Apparently they were closing down lots of buildings all around here and weren't letting anyone renew their leases. Even Doc.

"Hey, lemme talk to my boss, maybe he can do something," Rocco said.

We all made disapproving sounds and Murphy reached over and smacked the back of his head. It was a stupid idea. I was sure that even if "Papa Joe" could do something, Doc wouldn't want in on it just because of the dangers of dealing with Italian mafia.

Doc pointed at Rocco and said, "Now I don't want anyone knowin'. So ya keep yer traps shut! Ya know what they say. People in glass houses sink sh-sh-ships."

I laughed along with the men of the bar at his silly faux pas.

Rocco wheezed a laugh before saying, "Hey, Doc, I gotta buy you like a proverbs book or something. This mix and match shit's gotta go."

"A penny saved's worth two in the bush, innit?" Connor asked, looking blearily around through heavy-lidded eyes.

Murphy smiled and leaned over on my shoulder. "And don't cross the road, if ya cant get outta the kitchen."

I giggled and playfully shoved him over onto Rocco. I was still laughing when the door banged open and three large men walked in. Everyone at the bar stood and turned to face them. I leaned against Murphy's arm, the room tilting treacherously.

The bald one in the middle started speaking in a Russian accent. "I am Ivan Checkov, and you vill be closing. Now."

I scowled.

Murphy smirked. "Checkov? Well this here's McCoy," he threw his arm around Rocco's neck. "We find a Spock and we got ourselves an away team."

Everyone chuckled at his goofy Star Trek reference. The Russians didn't find it funny, though.

"I'm in no mood for discussion. You!" he pointed at Doc. "You stay. The rest of you, go now."

There was mumbling heard throughout the rest of the bar, but I kept quiet, silently sizing up these thugs.

"Why don't you make like a tree… and get the fuck out!" Doc stuttered from behind the bar.

"I rather like that one," I mumbled, making Murphy and Connor smirk.

Connor stepped up. "Ya know he's got till the week's end, right? Ya don't have to be hard-asses, do ya?"

"Yeah, its St. Patty's Day, everyone's Irish tonight," Murphy said. He put a cigarette in his mouth and let it hang limply between his lips as he continued, "Why don't you just pull up a stool and have a drink with us?"

Ivan flipped the fuck out. He smacked the glasses from Connor and Murphy's hands and growled, "This is no game! If you von't go, ve vill make you go."

Oooh wrong move, Ivan. You don't knock a beer from an Irishman's hand. Especially if that Irishman is a MacManus.

Connor glared up at him. "Listen, if ya want to fight, ya can see yer outnumbered here. We're tryin' to be civil so I suggest ya take our offer."

I knew what was brewing, and I awaited it eagerly. I wanted a bar fight so bad. Just like the ones that used to happen back home.

"I make the offers," Ivan said, glaring down the line of drunks.

Rocco stepped forward, starting to talk. I really hoped it wasn't something that was going to land him a shiner. Roc had that effect on people. "Hey, Borris! What if told you your pinko commie mother sucked so much dick her face looked like an egg?"

_Oh Roc_, I thought as Ivan leaped forward and punched Rocco out.

"Fuck you!" Murphy yelled at Ivan. Connor and Murphy started speaking to the three men in Russian, one of the many languages the two boys knew. Each MacManus gulped down a shot of Jack, then threw the punch that started everything.

Bar customers converged on the three large men, each of whom was trying in vain to defend themselves.

"I love this shit!" I yelled, kicking the side of a Russian's head who had been knocked to the floor. I passed by Ivan and gave him a good punch to the face. He dropped like a sack of potatoes and groaned.

I saw Murphy being backed up against a wall under racks of wine bottles. I tried to run to help him, and so did a few others, but Connor held us back. "Stay away! He can take care of himself!" Connor's words were proven true, when 2 seconds later, Murphy reached up behind him and grabbed a wine bottle in each hand. He brought them crashing down onto the head of the Russian in front of him, wine coating him and the floor beneath him.

Doc would have quite the clean-up to do when we left.

Some of the men picked Ivan up and laid him belly-side down on the bar. Murphy and I bound him to the bar with some rope. Murphy lit up a cigarette as Doc tossed me a bottle of alcohol. I poured most of it out onto Ivan's vulnerable ass, then took a swig and passed it on to Connor. Murphy "dropped" his cigarette onto Ivan's liquored-up rear end and we all laughed and watched as he squirmed, the flames making themselves at home in the seat of his trousers.

After about 5 more minutes Rocco, Connor, Murphy, and I left the others to Ivan's roasting butt cheeks. We were all stumbling up the street, intoxicated, when Rocco parted ways with us.

"Shall we walk the lady home, Murph?" Connor asked, linking arms with me.

"I believe we ought to, Connor. We did get the lady into a furious bar fight, ya know," Murphy said, hooking his arm through mine.

I giggled drunkenly and continued on. "I don't see why it matters, ya walk me home whether ya want to or not; we live down the hall from each other," I laughed, stumbling a bit.

Murphy laughed. "Aye, but we find its more polite to do it this way," he held up his elbow, lifting my arm along with his.

I laughed and got into the elevator of our building.

The elevator arrived on the 5th floor and we were all laughing about absolutely nothing. We got off the elevator and came up to my door, gasping for breath between our raucous bouts of laughter. The neighbors wouldn't complain; they were Irish, too. So they were either in their rooms and drunk, or out on the town and drunk.

"Goodnight, boys!" I called, unlocking my door.

"Night Kira!" they both called simultaneously. They both winked (also simultaneously) and disappeared inside their apartment.

They were an odd set of brothers, for sure. But I had grown rather fond of them over the years.

I fell into bed face first, sleep coming easily.


	2. The Irish and The Russians

KIRA'S POV:

I woke up around noon with a terrible hangover. I groaned and rolled out of my bed. I went into the kitchen, still in my pajamas (fuzzy Thumper PJ pants and a black tank top), and made myself a pot of coffee.

I heard a knock at the door when I was pouring myself a glass. I assumed it was Connor and Murphy, so I called, "Its open!" The door opened but I didn't turn around.

"What can I do for ya, boys?" I asked, dumping sugar into my coffee. I felt someone right behind me, so I figured it was one of the boys trying to scare me. I spun around, ready to smack either Connor or Murphy in the chest.

But when I turned around, Ivan was waiting, a large bruise encircling his eye. He gave me a nasty grin and grabbed me.

I kicked and screamed, trying to get out of his grasp. He drug me to the door.

"Connor! Murph!" I yelled.

Ivan dropped his hold on my arm, so I started to run for their door. But he quickly regained his grip, this time on my hair. He had one other man from last night with him. He handed me off to him and kicked in the door the boys were behind. "Freeze, you Irish faggots!" Ivan yelled, holding a gun up.

"Kira!" Murphy yelled, Ivan grabbing him by the collar of his bathrobe. Both he and Connor were wearing only a dingy bathrobe and a pair of boxers.

Ivan hit Connor in the head with the butt of his gun. Blood started dripping down his forehead, soaking his blond hair. Ivan handed Murphy to the guy holding my hair. He had Murphy down on his knees, facing Ivan and Connor, who was being cuffed to the toilet.

I looked over at Murphy. He glanced at me out of the corner of his blue eyes.

"You know why I fucking come here?" Ivan snarled in Connor's ear. "I come here to kill you. Now, I no think I kill you. Instead, I kill your brother." My eyes widened. He couldn't kill Murphy. "We'll see what happens to the girl," Ivan added, laughing sultrily.

"No!" Connor screamed, struggling against his bonds.

The other man started taking us out of the room, Ivan following with his gun trained on us.

"Murph! Kira!" Connor yelled behind us.

"Connor!" Murphy shouted. "It was just a bar fight, you guys are fucking pussies!"

I kicked at the unnamed guy's leg which made him loosen his hold on me. I got out, only to be grabbed by Ivan again. He hit me hard in my side, earning a howl of pain.

"Kira!" Murphy hollered.

"Quiet!" the other guy barked, shoving Murphy forward hard.

I whimpered and Ivan pulled me along by my arm. We got outside, in the alley out back, Ivan and his crony pushing and pulling Murphy and I. The other guy shoved Murphy onto the pavement, so he was sitting on his knees, hands up.

Ivan pushed me down onto a trash bag and grabbed at his belt. "Let's see what the Irish girl can do, eh?" Ivan said, undoing his belt.

I tried to get up and run, but he kicked at my bruised side. I screamed and he grabbed me, picking me up and pinning me in the corner of the brick wall and the dumpster beside me. "Murphy!" I yelled, trying to get out of the heavy Russian's hands.

He shook me hard, knocking the back of my head against the brick wall.

"Kira!" Murphy called out again. Over Ivan's shoulder, I could see the anger building in his eyes as he watched. His jaw clenched tightly and he started to get up and come help me, but the other Russian pistol-whipped him across the face.

I screamed and slapped out at Ivan's hands.

"Kira, get down!" Murphy yelled.

I didn't know what he was talking about, but I did what he said, ducking down into the trash bags under me. Ivan came crashing down on top of me. It seemed something heavy fell on him. I heard the other Russian let out an "oomph" noise and drop, a gun shot firing and something falling with him.

"Get me out of here!" I shouted from underneath Ivan.

His body started shifting around, and for a fearful moment, I thought he was getting up on his own. But then he was rolled off of me and Murphy's hand was being offered to me.

I grabbed onto it and let myself be pulled up. I could still feel myself crying. I didn't let go of his hand after I was up on my feet.

He frowned and yanked on my hand, pulling me closer. He gave me a tight hug, patting my back.

"Come on, lets get out of here," I said, pulling away and wiping my eyes with the back of my hands.

"Get everything off the Russians, I'll get Connor," Murphy instructed, going to lift Connor's limp body off the other Russian.

I grabbed a green paper bag out of one of the trash bags beside the dumpster and started looting the bodies of the Russians.

When I was done with that, Murphy and I limped off to the church ward.

Connor finally woke up a little after we got inside.

The nuns were huddled together on a bench a little up the hallway and the three of us were talking to a small boy sitting on a cot.

Murphy was sitting next to him, Connor standing in front of him, and I was leaning against the wall beside Murphy.

Connor would let the boy put his hands palm-down on his own hands and tell him to look up. Then Murphy would tap his hand and Connor would pretend it had been him and he was just so fast he couldn't even feel his hand move.

I laughed at their antics, but I was chewing on my nails the whole time, waiting for Doc to get there. I was staring at the wall opposite us when a hand came up and pulled my fingernails out of my mouth.

Murphy grinned at me. "Ya keep that up, and you'll bite yer whole hand off."

I rolled my eyes and smirked.

Then the door at the end of the hall opened and Doc came in. Connor began moving toward me, leaning against the cot for support.

"Thanks for comin' Doc," Murphy said, hopping off the bed to stand beside me.

"Jesus Christ," Doc said in a low voice, pointing at the boys' bloody bathrobes and the blood that had seeped through my shirt from where Ivan had kicked me. "What the fuck happened? Are you b-b-boys alright?"

I cocked a brow at him.

He grinned. "And you K-Kira?"

"We're alive," Connor said, putting his arm around my shoulders to rest his hand on Murphy's shoulder.

"An FBI agent came by the bar," Doc said, reaching into his pockets. "He gave me his c-c-ca… He left me his c-c-c- Oh he fuckin' gave me this," he handed Connor a card with a phone number on it and the name Paul Smecker at the top. "FUCK! ASS!" Doc yelled, making the nuns jump. "What're you gonna do?"

"We're gonna turn ourselves in," Connor said, handing the card to Murphy. "Tell 'em it was self-defense."

"Yeah, yeah," Doc said. "That's what he said."

"How the fuck's he know that? We havent spoken to anyone yet," Murphy asked, looking over at Connor.

"D-d-don't know, he di-di-didn't say."

We all stared down at the card for a moment longer and then Murphy looked up and cleared his throat. "Alright. Listen, Doc, we need you to do us a favor."

Connor bent and retrieved the green paper bag from the floor.

"Anything," Doc assured us.

"Just hold onto this for us," Connor put the bag into Doc's hands. "We're gonna come for it when we get back."

"Right," Doc said, nodding and beginning to walk back down the hallway to the door. On his way down, he yelled, "FUCK! ASS!"

Connor went back over to the little boy on the cot and said, "None of that cursin' was directed at you. He's, uh- he's a bit," he held a finger up to his head to indicate just how crazy our friend was.

* * *

><p><strong>Sorry it's taken me so long to update. Anyway, hope you liked it! :) <strong>


	3. Potato On A String

PAUL SMECKER'S POV:

I walked into the noisy room and unbuttoned my overcoat, putting my hands on my sides.

"First of all," I announced, drawing the attention of every cop in the room. "I'd like to thank whichever one of you donut-munching, barrel-assed, pod-pulling sissies leaked this to the press." I slowly made my way down the aisle of desks, looking briefly at each one of them.

"That's just what we need now. Some sensational story in the newspaper making these people out to be superheroes triumphing over evil. Let me squash the rumors now. These three are not heroes." I started my walk back up to the front of the room.

"They're just three ordinary people who were put in an extraordinary situation, and they just happened to come out on top. Yes, nothing in our far-reaching computer systems has turned up diddly on these three, all we know is what we've found out from the neighbors. And the general consensus is-" I smiled with a chuckle and spread my arms out to imitate wings. "They're angels."

I started turning back toward the front. "But angels don't kill." I stopped turning when I was facing Greenly and walked over to sit on his desk.

"And we've got two bodies in the morgue that look like they've been," I started to mock his Boston accent. "Serial crushed by some huge friggin' guy." A few of the officers laughed at my teasing.

"Are we considering these guys armed and dangerous?" one of the officers from the back of the room asked.

I crossed my arms. "Well, not armed. If they had guns, they would've used them. But dangerous? Very."

"What makes you think they're dangerous?" another officer asked from against the left wall. "I mean, maybe they were all just protecting each other."

A few people made noises of agreement, some noises of disbelief.

I held up my hands and stood from my perch on Greenly's desk. "Hey, look! I'm not saying one way or the other, just be careful and go by the protocol on this. Its grunt police work that's gonna bring this one in."

I turned away, but just as I started walking, Greenly spoke up, making me turn back to him. "These guys are miles away by now. But if you wanna beat your head against the wall, then here's what your lookin' for. They're scared, like three little bunny rabbits. Anything in a uniform or flashin' blue lights is gonna spook 'em."

I noticed someone walk into the room out of the corner of my eye as Greenly was ranting. I looked up and saw not just somebody. But three somebodies. Two men and a woman. They all looked pretty beat up. The one with black hair was helping the girl pull the blonde one who was limping.

"So the only thing we can do is put a potato on a string and drag it through South Boston, thanks for comin' out!"

"Ya'd probably have better luck with a beer," the black-haired one chuckled.

The girl nodded and the blond guy said, "Aye, ya would."

All eyes turned up to them. Including Greenly's. "Aw fuck," Greenly mumbled, putting his head in his hands.

"Hey, Greenly," I said, smirking. "Onion bagel. Cream cheese."

He shook his head and looked down.

I turned back to the three new additions to the audience in the station. I looked them over and thought that they could only have a very interesting story to go with that attire and condition. I grinned and motioned for them to follow me.


	4. Time To Feed The Dogs

KIRA'S POV:

Agent Paul Smecker led us to a room for questioning and pulled the blinds closed. I sat on one side of the table, between Connor and Murphy, and Smecker sat on the other. On the table in front of us, was a small rectangular plastic-looking object.

Connor munched on half of a donut and we all watched Smecker as he sat down in the chair across from us. "This conversation is going to be recorded," Smecker began, starting to lean toward the plastic object. "Just answer to the best of your knowledge."

Before Smecker could hit record, Murphy leaned forward and held his hand up. "Um, excuse me sir. Please." He leaned back in his chair again and leaned over to Connor across me, whispering in Gaelic. "_What do we tell him about the guns and the money?_"

I frowned and Connor gestured to Smecker and replied, "_We just got up and left. Bum must've rolled them before the police got there._"

"Okay," Murphy said, straightening in his chair and turning back to Smecker. "We're ready."

As Smecker began to record us, Murphy nodded to me, silently making sure I knew the story. I nodded back infinitesimally.

"You guys are not under oath here. Just answer the questions." We nodded as Smecker began to record us. "I'm assuming," he held up a shiny silver metal cigarette holder (all of us took one cigarette from it). "you knew these guys from before, huh?"

I looked over at the boys. Neither looked ready to answer yet, so I did. "We met them last night."

Smecker chuckled. "They had some pretty interesting bandages. Know anything about that?"

Connor, Murphy, and I exchanged a few glances and then all of us began to give an account on the night before.

Smecker hit stop on the recorder. "So," he began as Murphy blew a smoke ring. "how is it that you guys are fluent in Russian?"

Connor smirked. "We paid attention in school." Smartass.

"You speak any other languages?" Smecker asked, watching us excitedly.

"Aye," Murphy said with a laugh. "Our mother insister on it. French." He began speaking in French, but since my knowledge of the language was very limited, all I really picked up from it was "talking" and "us".

I would just have to assume he was wondering the same thing I was. How in the hell did Smecker already know all this when we hadn't spoken to anyone about this yet. I passed off the chills I got from Murphy's voice speaking French as the room being cold.

I know Spanish very well, so I could understand basically all of what Connor said next in Italian. "_I have no idea. Maybe someone saw and talked._"

I didn't know much German, but I knew enough (thanks to Murphy) to say what I said. "_Not in our neighborhood, man. A hundred percent Irish. No one speaks to cops. Period._"

Murphy nodded and Smecker grinned widely.

Connor dumped his ashes into an ashtray and pointed at Smecker, speaking in Spanish, "_Then I guess he's just real, real good._"

Smecker chuckled. "What are you two doing working at a friggin' meat packing plant? And you at a diner?" he asked, looking at each of us in turn.

Murphy looked like he was about to answer when another policeman entered. "Agent Smecker?"

"Yeah?" Smecker asked, turning to the tall, dark-haired man that had just stepped into the room.

"The press is everywhere, they're just going nuts for these guys. I don't know what you wanna do." He was very obviously from Boston.

Smecker looked back at us. "You're not being charged, its up to you. You wanna talk to them?"

"Absolutely not," Connor said with a scoff.

"No pictures either," I grumbled as Murphy leaned forward to flick the ashes off the end of his cigarette and into the ash tray.

"Is there any way that we can stay here?" Murphy asked, looking up at the new addition.

"Uh, yeah, we have an extra holding cell you guys could-" he looked down and caught the look Smecker was giving him. "Can they stay?"

"Well, we'll have to ask your mom," Smecker said with a smirk. "But its okay with me if your friends sleep over."

We all gave small laughs. I tried to laugh as quietly as I could so I could hear Murphy's laugh. It was something I had marveled over since I first met the boys. It seemed almost effortlessly beautiful. Not that I'd ever told him that.

Smecker stood and grabbed his coat, flinging it over his shoulder. "Time to feed the dogs."

* * *

><p>We had been in the holding cell for about 10 minutes, playing cards with a couple of the policemen when Rocco showed up, carrying a stack of clothes and a book.<p>

I was facing away from the door to the cell, sitting beside Connor when Murphy jumped up and ran over to Rocco. "Yeah!" he called, sounding adorably little boy-like.

He gave Rocco a big hug as Connor and I stood to face him.

"Roc!" Connor said, smiling.

I walked forward and hugged him as he pecked me on the cheek. "How ya doin', Kira?"

I nodded and smiled as an answer.

Then Rocco held up a finger and ducked down, reaching into his shirt. From under the cloth, he pulled three wooden rosary necklaces. The two dark brown ones were the boys', mine was the one painted a dark blue.

I smiled and slipped it over my neck. Both boys and I were devoutly Catholic and even attended the same church on Sunday mornings.

Connor and Murphy followed my lead and Murphy even ruffled Roc's hair a little bit.

"Oh and Kira, I brought you a book. I know you love to read for some reason, and I saw this sitting on your bookshelf, so I picked it up."

I gave him another hug and looked at the book. It was one I had read many times and still never tired of.

"Well, I gotta go you guys," Rocco said. "Got some business to do for Papa Joe."

We all grimaced but said nothing other than our goodbyes.

We continued playing cards for about an hour before the policemen had to leave.

"Bye bye, boys," I called, waving.

They chuckled and waved back.

I went over to the pile of clothes Roc had brought and separated mine from the boys'.

Then the crash of thunder outside made me jump with a slight squeal.

Connor and Murphy both knew I had an intense fear of thunder. It was some childhood thing I still hadn't grown out of. They both frowned and watched as I tried to appear not freaked out by the storm brewing outside.

There had originally been two beds in here, and when I brought it up, someone had brought in a third bed. But not before Connor and Murphy made some suggestive jokes.

I climbed into my bed (the one in the middle) and tried to keep my eyes closed as the boys ridded themselves of their shirts.


	5. Calling To Arms

I was laying asleep when the words of the monsignor started to circle my brain. It wasn't that I was hearing them. I was feeling them, as if my heart had the ability to speak.

"_This poor soul cried out for help._"

I felt my chest begin to convulse in rapid breathing as my whole body became warm despite the cold dampness of the cell.

"_They watched as he simply walked away._"

I felt water dripping onto my forehead, but still I did not wake.

"_The indifference of good men!_"

"_Nobody wanted to get involved._"

As the word "nobody" encircled my mind, I felt my chest being lifted, as if it had suddenly gotten ten times lighter. I gasped and my breathing became faster than before. I could hear Connor and Murphy do the same on either side of me.

What was this? I didn't know, but it felt amazing.

I opened my eyes to look up at the ceiling. Three narrow cracks, all conjoined, were dripping water onto us. The monsignor's voice was replaced by another man's.

"_Whosoever shed man's blood… By man shall his blood be shed. For in the image of God may deem a man._"

I glanced down at myself. I hadn't been floating like I had thought, but I was practically sitting up, propping my upper half up with my arms behind me.

I looked over. Connor and Murphy were staring at me and then each other.

"Destroy all that which is evil," Connor murmured.

"So that which is good may flourish," Murphy finished.

Oo0oO

I woke up at the light of day at the same time as the boys.

Connor rubbed at his face and Murphy grabbed his shirt and pulled it on. I was thankful for that, I wasn't sure how much more I could take of shirtless Murph.

I sat at the head of my bed with my back against the wall, watching both boys. They sat on the edges of their beds, facing each other. We all had a silent stare-down as each one of us remembered what had happened last night. I grabbed onto my rosary and rubbed the beads lightly with my thumb.

Something beeped, shrill and annoying.

I leaned my head back and closed my eyes. I had gotten plenty sleep, but I suddenly felt restless. Like there was something I needed to be doing. And I think I know what it was.

"The fuck is that?" Connor asked, nodding in the direction of the electronic noise.

Murphy groaned and rubbed his eyes.

"Its that fuckin' Russian's pager," I said, remembering pulling it out of Ivan's pocket.

Murphy tossed it to Connor and Connor read it. Connor began to stand. He put a hand on my knee and shook it. I looked up at him. He smiled a little at me. "C'mon, let's go."

I nodded and started to stand, waiting for the boys as they threw on their coats. We walked through the row between the cells, Murphy, Connor, and I smacking away the inmates' hands that shot out from between the bars to try and grab me.

"Damn criminals," Murphy muttered.

When we entered the main room we had come to earlier, there was a loud applause from the policemen. Connor and I just smiled, but Murphy threw his arms up dramatically much to the amusement of Connor and myself.

"How are ya?" one of the policemen asked as Murphy smacked a high five onto his hand.

There was another policeman taking a handcuffed man back to the cells.

Connor patted his shoulder and said, "Keep the faith man."

"Fuckin' blow me."

The group of cops we were walking over to chuckled.

Connor pointed behind him at the man. "What was that?" then he looked down at one of the detectives. "Have you got a pen?"

He reached into the pocket of his overcoat and pulled out a pen. "Yeah. Here you go."

"Thanks," Connor said, turning to Murphy and I. "Be right back."

We nodded and he walked away.

The men held their hands out for Murphy and I and we shook and high-fived as was necessary.

"Morning," some of the policemen said.

"Ah, mornin'," Murphy replied, his Irish accent coming out a bit more with that one word.

One of the policemen held up a tray of coffee. "We would be honored if you would join us."

Murphy and I each grabbed a cup, mumbling a thanks as we did.

"See this?" one of the detectives held a newspaper up in front of us.

"What this?" I asked, grabbing onto the side of the paper and using that as an excuse to move closer to Murphy's side.

The headline was "THE SAINTS OF SOUTH BOSTON" and under that, "Brothers' and friend's case discovered to be self-defense".

"Saints?" Murphy mumbled.

I tossed the paper back over to the detective as he chuckled. Murphy began dipping his fingers into his coffee and splashing each of the policemen in turn, saying, "Body of Christ. Body of Christ. Body of Christ."

Connor returned to us shortly and we left for the apartment. I followed the boys to their room and we all sat down, silence taking over until Connor said, "I think we need to talk about what happened last night."

"Yer damn right we need to talk about it," I mumbled, lighting up a cigarette. Even though I think we all knew what that had been, we needed to get it out in the open.

"It was a message," Murphy said.

"From God," Connor continued.

"It was a calling to arms," I said, looking at both men.

They nodded. "I think we know what needs to be done, then," Connor said, pulling something out of his pocket.

I leaned over, trying to get a better look.

"I called the number on the Russian's pager. They were givin' him directions. Some kinda meetin' or somethin'." He handed me the small, ripped, yellow piece of paper.

On it, in Connor's awful handwriting, was written, "Copley Plaza Room 701 9 p.m."

"We're gonna need somethin' if we're gonna do this," I muttered.

"What?" Murphy asked. I looked up.

"Guns."


	6. Rope and Rambo

CONNOR'S POV:

We all tossed the Russians' belongings down onto the table in front of the tall, slim Irishman in front of us. Money, guns, gold watches, stuff like that.

He grinned down at the pile of goods and tossed a few black duffle bags at the three of us. Then he reached behind him and hit a light switch, turning on a light behind us in a caged-off room. "Help yerselves."

We each smirked at each other and stood, entering the room. All across the walls were guns and knives and bullets and holsters and masks and gloves and rope.

I thought rope sounded pretty useful, so while Murphy and Kira were filling their bags with stuff, I said, "Ya know what we need? Some rope."

"For what?" Murphy asked, placing some bullets in his bag.

"Charlie Bronson's always got rope," I defended, hearing the skepticism in Murphy's voice.

"What?" Kira asked, cocking a brow.

"Yeah, they've always got a lot of rope strapped around themselves in the movies and they always end up usin' it." I stuck a few black 9mm pistols with silencers into my bag. I would later realize that Kira and Murphy had done the same with identical guns.

"Oh, you've lost it haven't you?" Murphy asked, inspecting some gloves.

"I'm serious," I said, tossing in a pair of gloves and a mask.

"Me too," Murphy said, grabbing a large gun off the pegs on the wall. "That's stupid, name one thing you're gonna need rope for."

"I don't know, they just always need it!" I said.

Kira was being quiet as usual, looking over everything and grabbing what she thought necessary.

"What's with all this 'they' shit? This isn't a movie," Murphy said, setting his bag down on a stool beside me as he stood behind the huge gun on the mount at the back of the room, aiming it around and grinning like a young boy.

I peered into his open bag and caught sight of something that glinted in the light. I grabbed it and held the blade between two fingers. "Is that right, Rambo?" I looked up to see Murphy had pointed the very large gun at me.

"Alright," he relented. "Get yer stupid fuckin' rope."

I grinned. "I'll get my stupid rope. I'll get it." I backed up to the wall and grabbed a bundle of rope off the peg and waved it around in the air at Murph. "There's rope right there!"

Murphy made a face at me at which Kaiya giggled. Murphy glanced over at her when she did this, and I noticed a slight reddening across his cheeks. Aw, so little ol' macho Murph's got a wee crush on our lady friend, has he?

I smirked and we left the armory.

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><p><strong>I know its really short, but hopefully you liked it anyway. Review! :) <strong>


	7. Dropping In

MURPHY'S POV:

We walked across Copley Square, each of us in a black P-coat and jeans. We all had on black sunglasses, shielding our eyes from others. I glanced at Kira out of the corner of my eyes. Her black shirt was tightly stretched across her flat stomach and large… Never mind.

I shook my head slightly and continued forward. We walked through the lobby of Copley Plaza and into the elevator, none of us breathing a word.

When we were in, Connor stood with his back to the door, looking up at the ceiling of the elevator. I stood in the center of the elevator, looking down at the ground, my lip between my teeth as I tried to mentally prepare myself for what was about to happen. Kira stood on my other side, leaning back against the wall, seemingly without a care in the world. But Connor and I knew better.

"Nervous?" Connor asked, glancing at me.

I hesitated then nodded. "A bit."

"Myself as well," he replied, looking back up at the ceiling.

When we were halfway between floors, Kira hit the stop button on the panel.

All of us placed our duffle bags on the ground and kneeled down to rifle through them, pulling out masks and gloves and other various things like that. Each of us strapped our pairs of 9mm black pistols with silencers onto ourselves with shoulder holsters so that the guns sat just under our armpits.

Kira's mask was different than ours. Where ours were just cloth ski masks with holes for both eyes and the mouth, hers was just a thin, stretchy fabric that went over her nose and mouth. She tied her hair back and Connor handed us both bundled lengths of rope.

"You and your fuckin' rope," I grumbled, tossing it over my shoulder. I held my linked hands out to Connor and he put his foot in the basket made of my hands.

He pushed off the part of the ceiling that led to the open shaft above then pulled himself up. Kira stepped forward.

"Ready for this?" I asked, taking a deep breath and lifting her slight frame easily.

"Oh yeah," she replied.

Connor grabbed her arms and pulled her up.

I jumped up and grabbed the edge of the opening, struggling to pull myself up. Kira and Connor each grabbed one of my arms and started lifting me up into the cold metallic shaft.

Connor walked over to the wall where there was a small, squared opening covered with a thin grate. "Told ya there'd be a shaft."

I smirked. "Just like on TV."

Connor and I pulled the grating off and Connor climbed in, then Kira, and I took up the rear. After a few minutes of random turns (Connor obviously had no clue what he was doing), I gave a frustrated grunt and said, "Kira, move over a little."

She obliged, squeezing herself up against the wall so I could get by. I tried not to notice how smooth her skin felt as I brushed past her, but I ultimately failed. But when I caught up to Connor, my anger was reignited. "Where the fuck are ya goin'?" I asked, agitated.

Connor looked around ahead, beaming his flashlight around. "Shh! I'm figurin' some shit out here."

I readjusted the rope over my shoulder. "Fuck you! I'm sweatin' my ass off draggin' yer fuckin' rope around. Must weigh thirty pounds."

"Shh!" Connor said again, this time turning to look at me and put a threatening finger in my face. "We are doin' some serious shit here, now get a fuckin' hold of yerself."

I narrowed my eyes slightly at him. "Oh, fuck you! I'm not the rope-totin' Charlie Bronson wannabe that's gettin' us fuckin' lost!"

"Would you fuckin' shut it?" Connor grumbled, tapping me on the side of the head with his flashlight. It hadn't really hurt all that much, but we were brothers, fighting over the little things is what we do.

I tried knocking the flashlight out of his hand, but he kept a tight grip on it. So I started swinging my arms, trying to hit any part of Connor I could.

"Boys!" Kira hissed up to us. She groaned quietly as we continued our fight.

Then I felt someone between Connor and myself. She had her back to me and put both of her hands on Connor's chest, pushing her back into my chest so that I was shoved back against the wall and Connor was pushed up against the opposite wall.

"Now both of ya," Kira growled quietly. "Chill the fuck out!"

I was slightly aware of the fact that Connor and I had been fighting in a nest of rope and by fighting so much in the enclosed space, we had entangled ourselves within it, and since Kira had crawled in between us, she was now wrapped up, too. But I was concentrating more on the fact that Kira was so close to me. It took every ounce of willpower I had not to wrap my arm around her stomach and pull her even closer.

Then the shaft creaked.

"Jesus fuckin' Christ," Connor breathed raggedly as the shaft moved around a bit.

"Oh shit," I said as it creaked again and started to loosen.

"Aw fuck," Kira said as though she had expected that something like this would happen.

Then the shaft gave way, crashing down through the ceiling of the room under us. To our great amazement, it was the exact room we had been scampering through those shafts looking for. We landed just over Yuri Petrova's head.

We were all falling through the ceiling, spilling out into the middle of a room full of mobsters and I thought for sure we were dead. But the rope caught on something up in the shaft and we were jerked to a halt, hanging upside down in mid-air. I was surprised our minds worked fast enough for us to pull out our guns and start shooting before we were killed by these guys.

When everyone had been shot, I pulled my knife out of my pocket and cut the rope holding us up. We all fell, but Kira fell on top of my chest. "Sorry, Murph," she muttered. I couldn't tell but I had the feeling she was blushing.

Connor stood and I with him. As Kira began going around to make sure everyone was dead, Connor and I began to recite our family's prayer with our guns pointed right at the back of Petrova's head. "And shepherds we shall be, for Thee, my Lord, for Thee. Power hath descended forth from Thy hand, that our feet may swiftly carry out Thy command. So we shall flow a river forth to Thee and teeming with souls shall it ever be. In nomine patris et fili et spiritus sancti." With the last words, we cocked our guns and pulled the trigger.

Mission accomplished.

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><p><strong>Sorry it took so long to update. Thanks for reading and reviewing, hope you liked it! :)<strong>


	8. Fuck

KIRA'S POV:

We looked around at the nine men we had just taken out, all of us quite pleased with ourselves.

"Well," Connor said, rubbing his chin and looking up at the cut rope dangling from the ceiling. He tugged on it, pulling it down. "Name one thing yer gonna need the stupid fuckin' rope for," he mocked Murphy.

But Murphy was in too good of a mood to be taken down by Connor light jibes. He patted his brother on the chest, looking around him. "Well, that was way easier than I thought. Ya know, on TV ya've always got that one guy that jumps over the sofa."

Connor nodded, imitating a gun with his fingers. "Yeah, and then ya've gotta shoot for ten fuckin' minutes, too."

"Right," Murph said, grinning. "We're good."

I smiled at his happiness. It was cute.

"Yes we are," Connor said.

I glanced over at the other side of the room where the bar was. There was a small black case sitting on it. "Oh boys," I called, turning their attention to me. I pointed to it. "Now what do ya think is in that little case there?"

They both began to race each other to it, but since they were so busy fighting over who was going to get there first, I won. I opened it up. It was filled with wads of money. Connor, Murphy and I each pulled out a wad.

"Fuck me!" Connor breathed, gazing at his bills.

"The hits just keep on comin'!" Murphy exclaimed happily, thumping Connor over the head with his stack.

"Ow," Connor said very quietly as he began to sniff his money. "Give it a smell."

Murphy began to chuckle. "I love our new job."

Then the doorbell rang.

Connor pulled out his gun and threw on his mask as Murphy pulled his own on. I had never taken mine off, so I left it there and pulled my gun out. We raced across the room to the door. Connor looked out of the peephole and then pulled Murphy's head to it. They both looked at each other with hilarious expressions, so I moved forward to look through it.

Rocco was on the other side in a room service outfit and a nametag that said Jaffar. I pulled away with a smirk.

"That poor bastard," Murphy said quietly, lifting his mask.

"This's gotta be his big break," Connor said. "We've got to fuck with him."

Murphy made a mock appalled face and then nodded and said, "Okay."

I chuckled. They both pulled their masks back down over their faces and Connor began giving Murphy instructions. I went to the other side of the room and sat myself up on the bar, crossing my legs to watch the show.

They opened the door and Murphy grabbed the cart Rocco was pushing, pulling it into the room and out of the way as Connor dragged Rocco in by the hair.

"Shit! Shit!" Rocco yelled around the yelling of Connor. "Don't shoot! Don't shoot!"

"Shut up!" Connor screamed. "Get on the ground!"

They put him down on the ground just in front of where I was sitting.

He was laying on his back, looking up at Connor and Murphy and breathing hard, his eyes wide. His eyes darted to me.

I winked at him, leaning over.

He looked back up at Connor and Murphy whose guns were in his face. "Don't shoot! Don't shoot! We're on the same side. Boss musta sent you in as backup, huh? I'm Rocco. I'm the funny man. That aint my name!" he said, pointing frantically at his name tag.

"Where's your gun!" Connor asked loudly.

"In here, right- right here," he patted the front of his shirt.

Connor grabbed it and pulled it out. I leaned forward to get a better look. "What the fuck?" Connor asked, grunting and standing up, obviously a little ticked about something. "it's a fuckin' six-shooter!" he called to me.

I groaned and put my head in my hands as he turned back to Rocco.

"There's nine bodies, genius," Murphy growled.

"What the fuck were you gonna do? Laugh the last three to death, funny man?" Connor asked, mocking Rocco.

"Papa Joe said there was only two. In and out." Rocco gazed around at the bodies everywhere. "Boy, you guys sure did a good job. Ah, shit. You guys are good, huh?" Connor and Murphy pressed their guns further against Rocco's face. "Cool masks, where'd ya get 'em?" he asked awkwardly.

"We gotta do him. Right here. Right now!" Connor growled, pushing Roc harder against the floor.

Rocco began pleading unintelligibly, his mumbled pleas slurring together as he waved his hands around. "Don't kill me please, I'm the funny man!" he said repeatedly as Connor and Murphy pulled off their masks, laughing hysterically.

I hopped up from my seat on the bar and walked over as the two stood up, taking my mask off as well and allowing the boys to sling their arms around my shoulders. His eyes widened at us. We chuckled and walked back over to the bar as Rocco stood up.

He took in the scene around him with new eyes. "Fuckin', what the fuckin'- fuck- what the- who the fuck- fuck this- fuckin' - how did you three fuckin' fucks… FUCK!" he screamed, jumping in the air.

"Well, that certainly illustrated the diversity of the word," Connor said as Murphy chuckled.

I blushed as Murphy's eyes met mine for a second. They were too damn blue for their own good.

Then I stood and grinned up at Rocco and his obvious confusion.

* * *

><p><strong>Hope you guys are liking it. I'm hoping to get some stuff with just Kira and Murphy here soon, so stay tuned :P Review! :) <strong>


	9. Coming Clean

KIRA'S POV:

Connor, Murphy, and I went to Rocco's home after he got over the initial shock of finding us in the mafia's crib. Rocco called in a pizza and pulled a bunch of liquor out of his kitchen, setting up the table in his living room area.

We had stopped at our places before coming to Roc's, and all of us had changed back into normal people clothes, but I had a feeling, by the way Murphy kept looking at me, that something was on my face.

Rocco directed me to the bathroom when I asked him. I closed the door behind me and inspected myself in the mirror. _Nothing on my cheeks. Forehead's good. No leftovers on my chin. No boogers. Huh… I seem to be perfectly fine. Maybe I'm just going crazy._ I shook my head and left the bathroom.

When I found Murphy, Connor, and Rocco sitting at the table between Rocco's kitchen and living room, Murphy and Connor were explaining to Roc the logistics of our new vigilantism. I took a seat in the chair between Connor and Murphy.

"Anyone _you_ think is evil?" Rocco asked, gesturing to the three of us.

"Aye," Connor mumbled, adjusting the silencer on the end of his gun.

"Don't you think that's a little weird? A little psycho?" Rocco asked, shaking his head.

"Do ya know what I think is psycho, Roc?" Connor asked, leaning forward. "Decent men with loving families. They go home everyday after a hard day of work and they turn on the news and do ya know what they see?"

I leaned forward on my elbows, linking my fingers together and watching them seriously. "They see rapists, and murderers and child molesters. And they're all gettin' out of prison."

"Mafiosos," Murphy jumped in, pulling the trigger on his unloaded gun so that it clicked in Rocco's direction. "Getting' caught with twenty kilos. Gettin' off on bail same fuckin' day!" He snapped to make a point, leaning back in his chair.

"And everyone, everywhere thinks the same thing," Connor began again.

"That someone should just go kill those motherfuckers," I snarled.

"Kill 'em all," Murphy murmured. "Admit it. Even you've thought about it."

Rocco took a moment before pointing at us and saying, "You guys should be in every major city."

We all chuckled.

"This is some heavy shit. This is like Lone Ranger heavy, man." Rocco slammed his hand down on the table and stood, beginning to pace behind his chair. "Fuck it! There is so much shit that pisses me off." He snapped and pointed back down at us, stopping in his tracks. "You guys should recruit. 'Cause I'm sick and fuckin' tired of walkin' down the street, waiting for one of these crack pipin' ass wipin' motherless lowlifes to get ME!"

"Hallelujah, Jaffar," Murphy mocked, waving his cigarette in the air.

"So like, you guys aren't just talkin' about mob here, right? I mean you're talkin' about pimps and drug dealers and all that shit, right?"

Murphy and I nodded. "Ah yeah," Connor said, looking down at the gun in his lap.

Rocco ran a hand through his hair and smiled, breathing out a "Fuck. You guy could do this every goddamn day!"

Murphy clapped a hand onto my shoulder, grinning at me. "We're sorta like 7-11. We're not always doin' business, but we're always open."

"That was nicely put," I said, chuckling at him.

He squinted his eyes a bit around a smile and whispered, "Thank ya very much."

Soon the liquor broke out and we were all too drunk to remember much of anything except for the cat. Murphy and Roc (both of whom had their mouths stuffed with pizza) were having a conversation about whether or not Rocco should take credit on the damage we had done tonight.

"Fuck it!" Rocco exclaimed. "I'm doin' it. It is DONE!" As he said the word done, he brought his fist down onto the table. Right on top of the gun that was laying there.

The gun went off, firing at the cat sitting right beside it and painting Rocco's wall a lovely shade of red. The sound of the shot gave everyone quite a shock.

Rocco flew backwards in his chair, falling onto the ground behind him. Me, Connor, and Murphy all jumped up. Connor ran around the side of the table, but Murphy dove for the chair in the corner away from the table, tackling me in the process. He grabbed me by my waist and pulled me to the chair, pulling me up with him when he stood.

Everyone looked around, checking themselves to make sure no one had accidentally gotten hit with the blast.

"Oh my God!" Murphy exclaimed as Connor and Roc struggled to get into a standing position. "Oh fuck!" Murphy said, looking around.

Connor was staring in disbelief at the wall.

As soon as we realized what had happened, Murphy stepped forward and pointed at wall sideways. "I cant believe that just fuckin' happened!"

"Is it dead?" Rocco asked.

I slapped him in the side of the head for his idiocy, but the rest of the night was lost in the recesses of my drunken mind.

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><p><strong>Sorry its been so long since I updated! But I got back at it today in the spirit of St. Patties! :) Hope you liked it. <strong>


	10. Sleeping Beauty

MURPHY'S POV:

When I woke up the next morning, there was still blood splattered on the wall by the table, beer cans and liquor bottles were strewn all over the table, and Rocco and Connor had gone outside.

But the thing that caught my attention most was the girl wrapped up in my arms. I was on the floor in the kitchen, Kira laying asleep in the circle of my arms, her own arms wrapped around my stomach.

I grinned down at her, not caring much that my arm was falling asleep. I brushed a small piece of hair out of her face, tucking it behind her ear.

Her nose scrunched up in an adorable way and she rubbed her face on my chest, pushing against it as she moved closer to me. She sighed in her sleep and mumbled, "Murph."

I smirked at the sound of my name, nearly incomprehensible with the influence of sleep added to her Irish accent. The tiniest hint of a small touched her lips. "Kira?" I whispered.

She sucked in a small breath and opened her eyes, blinking rapidly as she struggled to make her sleepy mind make sense of her surroundings. She unwrapped an arm from my waist and rubbed at her eyes, looking at me through squinted eyes. "Murphy?" she asked quietly.

I grinned. "G'mornin' sleepin' beauty."

She rolled her eyes with a smile and then looked down at our bodies, mostly entangled. Then she jumped up, surprisingly fast for someone who woke up only moments ago. "What the hell happened?"

I frowned. "I dunno. I guess we just fell asleep like that after the cat…"

She nodded, looking down.

I stood from the floor and stretched. I rubbed the back of my head, feeling a bit shut down. "I'm- uh… I'm gonna go outside with Connor and Roc, okay?"

She nodded, massaging her forehead.

I grabbed my P-coat and walked downstairs and outside into the alley where Roc and Connor were, both looking tense and angry. Rocco looked ready to bolt.

I pulled a cigarette out. "Where the fuck're ya goin'?" I asked, walking up to them and turning to Connor. "Did ya tell him?"

"'Course I fuckin' told him," Connor scoffed.

I turned back to Rocco. "Well then what the fuck?"

Connor and I had talked last night about the curious situation last night at Copley Plaza. His boss had told him that there would only be two men there and sent him in with a six-shooter, making Rocco feel more than protected against this minimal threat. But there had actually been nine people in that hotel room last night. Someone as powerful in underhanded businesses as Papa Joe wouldn't have gotten something like that wrong. He knew. And he had sent Rocco in practically unprotected.

"You guys don't know that shit for sure!" Rocco said, waving his hand upward.

I glanced back at Connor who was putting his hand on his face, obviously worn out already. "Aw yer such a fuckin' retard!" I yelled, throwing my unlit cigarette into his chest.

"Hey, fuck you!" Roc yelled back, shoving me back.

"Aw, man," I shouted, slapping him in the head and grabbing his shirt collar. "Use yer fuckin' brain fer once. Is it so hard to believe that they don't fuckin' care aboutcha?" Toward the end of my sentence, my voice got quieter.

Rocco's shirt was still in my grasp and he was struggling to form a sentence that didn't include confused sputtering. "Oh, yeah, you two fuckin' Micks know what's goin' on, huh?" he asked, pushing me away. "Fuck you!"

Connor pointed angrily at him. "Roc, its not a fuckin' thing ya should gamble on, alright?"

Rocco glanced around a little before saying, "I'm the fuck outta here," and storming away down the street.

"Fine! Fuck it!" I yelled after him, kicking the iron bar gate into the concrete wall it rested against. "What kinda flowers ya want yer funeral, ya dumb whop? That's the last time I'm gonna see ya!" I turned around and started to stomp back up to Rocco's apartment.

"I'll be back at nine. Burry the fuckin' cat!"

I was halfway to the inside of the building, but I could still here Connor yell back to him, "Listen, ya get in there, ya start gettin' a bad vibe, ya get the fuck out quick!"

Then I got a bad feeling in the pit of my stomach. I shouldn't have said what I did. Because with my luck, now it really was going to be the last time I saw him.

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><p><strong>Thanks for reading! Hope you enjoyed it! Review! :) <strong>


	11. What Deal?

KIRA'S POV:

When Murphy came back in, he looked absolutely pissed.

"What happened?" I asked, jogging across the kitchen to him, grabbing his shoulders as he slammed the door shut behind him.

"Roc's gone to get himself fuckin' killed!"

My eyes widened. "Murph, what the fuck are ya talkin' about?"

He just watched me, trying to control his elevated breathing.

"Murphy," I said firmly, gripping his shoulders tighter. "What did Rocco do?"

He sighed and rolled his eyes a bit, but tugged me by my elbow over to the table we had all sat around last night. "Ya know those men we killed last night?"

I nodded. How could I not?

"Well, there were nine and Roc's boss sent him in with a six shooter and made him think there would only be two men there. Do ya really think a man with that much power would get that kind of information wrong?"

I grimaced and scoffed, shaking my head. "Absolutely not. We all know what that was. He was tryin' to get rid o' Rocco."

Murphy nodded, sighing through his nose. "That's what we told Roc. He didn't wanna believe us, though. Just went off to go talk to his boss."

I closed my eyes around the massive headache I had growing. "Oh, Roc," I groaned.

"Kira?" Murphy asked quietly after a moment.

When I looked up, he was frowning at the edge of the table and didn't look up at me. "What if Roc doesn't make it back?"

I grabbed his hand that was laying on the table's surface and wrapped my hand around his thumb. "He's gonna make it, Murph. Ya got that?"

His frown deepened.

I put my other hand on the side of his face, forcing him to look up at me. I looked straight into his electric blue eyes. "Rocco is going to fine. I promise."

He nodded, but he still didn't look very convinced.

"C'mere," I said, moving my hand from his face to the back of his neck, pulling him in for a half-assed hug. He tentatively wrapped his other arm around me, squeezing me gently.

Our embrace slightly resembled a bro-hug. But I didn't mind. I had never stayed in a hug with Murphy for this long. They had always been brief, lasting for only a few seconds. This one was going on forever… and I loved it.

The smell of Murphy was a comforting blend of cheap body soap, cigarettes, and the cologne I had gotten him for Christmas last year. He had been griping about how he was almost out of his favorite and I just happened across it one day while I was shopping and picked it up for him.

"Kira?" he asked again.

"Huh?" I asked.

He slowly turned his head so he could whisper softly in my ear, "Je t'aime."

I hated it when he talked in French because I always had to bit down on the urge to shiver. But now he was whispering in French in my ear. I was sure, with how close he was holding me, he could feel the small tremors that skittered their way down my spine.

My first language kicked in then. "Diabhal e, Murphy! Ta a fhios agat nach bhfuil a fhios agam I bhfad na Fraince." Roughly translated, I had said, "Damn it, Murphy! You know I don't know much French."

He chuckled. "Which is why that makes it more fun."

I rolled my eyes. "Come on, now, what did ya say?"

He shook his head. "Nope."

"Please?" I begged, drawing the word out. I pulled out of the hug (dumbest thing I've ever done) and clasped my hands together, using Gaelic again to make the request; I knew Murphy liked it better when I talked in Gaelic. "Feicfidh me gra duit go deo na ndeor agus riamh!" (I'll love you forever and ever and ever!)

He looked surprised for a moment and then shook his head, looking back down at the table. "It was nothin'."

I frowned.

"Fuckin' Roc," Connor grumbled, walking through the doorway and shutting the door behind him as he walked to the kitchen.

I sighed and sat back in my seat.

The rest of the day was spent in silent anxiousness, all of us waiting for a phone call or for Roc to come barreling through the door. But neither happened for a long while.

Around noon, I was heading towards the living room, ready to crash on the couch. Connor had gone outside again, trying in vain to find Rocco among the faces that passed by the apartment complex. Murphy was sitting at the table still, looking blearily through a book Rocco had laying around. I was surprised he owned something literary.

I flopped down onto the couch on my stomach. Murphy looked up, surprised at the sudden noise that broke the silence that had settled over the three of us since earlier that day.

"Do ya think he's alright, Murph?" I asked, keeping my face angled away from him. I felt like such a hypocrite. Only an hour or so ago, I had been insisting vehemently that Rocco would be perfectly fine. I had even gone as far as to promise. But now I was unsure of myself.

I closed my eyes and heard Murphy stand from his seat at the table, walking over to the table where he sat on the edge, facing me. "Kira," he said quietly. "Kira." He moved a bit closer, slipping off the edge of the table and sitting on his knees on the floor in front of the couch where I lay.

I opened my eyes.

He put a hand lightly on my shoulder. "Ya said so yerself. Roc'll be alright."

I frowned but nodded.

Murphy put a finger under my chin, lifting it so I had to look him in the eye. "C'mon," he said with a small smirk. "Ya know what Roc would do if he knew we were sittin' around worryin' about him?"

I silently chuckled and lifted myself up on my elbow but Murphy left his finger under my chin, his face suddenly serious. "Murphy?" I asked, still not over the way saying his name made my face get hotter.

"Coinnigh fos," he whispered, his eyes locking on my lips as he slipped back into his native tongue in his intense concentration. "Ba mhaith liom rud eigin a thriail." (Hold still. I want to try something)

I nodded slowly, my eyelids fluttering out of habit of having someone so close to me. He inched his way closer, as slowly as I thought would ever be possible. I could feel his lips on mine when he got only a few centimeters away. My breath got faster and my heart sped up as the event I had been wishing would happen almost for years happened. Murphy kissed me.

The moment our lips made contact, I sat up straighter, weaving a hand through his black hair as he bit lightly on my lower lip. I smiled against his mouth, letting a small giggle out.

"I'm not that bad am I?" he mumbled around my mouth as he smirked.

I shook my head and pushed harder on his lips.

The door to the apartment swung open.

Murphy and I leapt apart, looking up at a shocked Connor standing in the doorway. He adopted an angry visage and pointed at Murphy who was blushing and sitting on the table again. "We had a fuckin' deal ya bastard!"

What the hell?

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><p><strong>:O Dafoque is he talking about? Review! :) <strong>


	12. Letting Her Go

CONNOR'S POV:

"We had a fuckin' deal ya bastard!" I yelled, pointing a finger at Murphy as the scene from about 5 years ago played over in my mind.

_Murphy closed the door as we waved goodnight to our new friend, Kira, who we had met that night at McGinty's. "She's, uh-" Murphy started, a faint redness covering his cheeks. _

_I chuckled. "She's fuckin' gorgeous." _

_Murphy laughed and nodded. Murphy began kicking his shoes off as I starting pulling my shirt away from my body. _

"_I think I'm gonna see if she wants to see me again sometime," I muttered thoughtfully, not really meaning to have let the words come out. _

_Murphy looked up at me, his mouth open. "But- I mean, I was gonna-" A fight soon broke out. It started out as verbal, but quickly escalated into physical violence. _

"_Ya little fucker!" I yelled when Murphy's right fist landed itself on my left eye. _

"_Alright, alright!" Murphy called, holding his hands up after we had both gotten our lips bloodied, and left quite a few large bruises on the other's body. _

"_How 'bout this," I said slowly, sad to have to concede to his foolish wishes. "Neither of us make a move on her. We both stay completely platonic. Deileail? (Deal)" _

_Murph thought about it for a moment and then nodded, reaching his hand out to shake my own. "Alright." _

Sure I still felt something for Kira, but it was a little less than it had been five years ago. Besides, I knew the slightly hurt feelings I felt were more from a feeling of rejection that she chose Murphy over me. I knew she wasn't doing it to hurt me, though.

"That was five fuckin' years ago," Murphy said, standing from the table and walking toward me.

"Give us a minute, Kira," I called to her as I pulled Murphy out into the dingy hall with me.

"Ya fuckin' serious?" Murphy hissed.

I nodded. "Yer damn fuckin' straight. What the fuck were ya doin'? We had a deal."

"Fuck the deal. I love her, Conn."

My eyes widened. I loved her too. But not the way Murphy did. "Ya serious?" I asked after a quiet pause.

He sighed and nodded in defeat.

"How long?" I asked, leaning back against the wall behind me.

He looked up at the ceiling, resting his head against the wall. "Last year."

"Last year?" I whispered, trying to make sure Kira wouldn't hear me. "Why the fuck didn't ya tell me?"

He shrugged and gave a small half-smile. "We had a deal."

"Ah, Murph," I growled, half-angry that he had kept it from me and half-happy for him because my brother had finally found love. Sure I had been with girls before, but Murphy always seemed to be the one who despised going out on dates and meeting new people. Kira was much the same. "Good for you," I said seriously.

"So is the deal off?" he asked expectantly, cautiously optimistic but at the same time, looking like he was ready to get shut down.

I hesitated. You cant really blame me; I had been admiring the girl for five years. But I supposed, since it was Murph, I could let her go.

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><p><strong>I know this is extremely short, but hopefully its good. Thanks for reading. Review! :) <strong>


	13. Be Mine

KIRA'S POV:

When the boys came back in, Murphy ran over to me with a broad grin and picked me up off the couch in his arms, chuckling when my arms tightened around his shoulders when my feet left the floor. Over his shoulder, I could see Connor trying to avoid looking at us as he stared at the floor and rubbed the back of his neck.

"What happened?" I asked, pulling out of Murphy's hug.

"Connor let me call the deal off," he explained excitedly.

"What deal?" I asked, still confused.

Murphy shook his head. "'ts not important. Anyway… Umm," he got really nervous for a minute. "Kira, do ya like me? I mean like me, like me?"

I blushed. This felt like the third grade all over again. "What do ya mean?"

He grinned.

"C'mon, Kira. Ya got a crush on ol' Murphy-boy, or not?" Connor asked with a forced smirk.

I frowned at his obvious discomfort, but looked back at Murphy, my face flaming as I wondered how he had figured me out. I sighed and nodded.

He grabbed my hand and pulled me to him again, holding me against him gently. He whispered, "Bi liom? (Be mine?)"

My breath caught, but somehow I managed to pull back and kiss him softly on the lips before replying, "Ar ndoigh. (Of course.)" I couldn't help but notice Connor scowling by the door.

"I'll be right back," Murphy said, walking down to the bathroom.

"Connor, are ya alright?" I asked when the door had closed. I took a few steps over to him.

"Of course I am," he said, not making eye contact with me.

I decided to travel down a different path that would, perhaps, get me the answers I wanted. "What was the deal?"

Connor chuckled. "That's cheatin', lass."

"Connor, please tell me what's the matter with ya," I pleaded, clasping my hands together in front of my chest.

He sighed and looked up at me, a saddened look hidden deep in his eyes. It took a few minutes of me evaluating his eyes until I finally got it.

Connor wanted me. He had let Murphy have me. But why? For as long as I had known, those two were about as competitive as you could get. With girls, I would figure it was no different. So why had Connor let Murphy have me?

Don't get me wrong, I was ecstatic that he did; I had been in love with Murphy MacManus for almost a year now. But I did find it odd that he had just let me go. Connor wasn't one to let things go easily. Especially not people he cared about. It was one of the things I admired about him.

"Oh, Connor," I sighed, lowering my head ashamedly. "I'm sorry."

He shook his head. "Don't be."

I swallowed the lump in my throat and stepped forward a few more steps, wrapping my arms around his torso. His arms went up as he looked down at me. After his initial shocked hesitation, he chuckled and hugged me back.

"Thank you, Connor," I whispered.

"Not a problem, deirfiur beag (little sister)."

"Are ya sure you'll be alright?" I asked, pulling away.

He nodded, his smile turning a little sad again. "I'll git over it. Dontcha worry about me."

The word worry had me wondering about Rocco again. "Do ya think Rocco's alright?" I asked as Murphy came back into the room.

Connor shrugged.

I sat in one of the chairs at the table with a sigh and the boys joined me. Connor took to leaning over towards Murphy as he looked over the newspaper and Murphy bit his thumb nail like he did when he got nervous and watched the telephone in front of him anxiously. I set my arm on the table as Murphy doodled with his finger on the backside of my other hand. I laid my head down on my arm and tried to nap.

After a few silent minutes of us sitting like that, I had developed a crick in my neck, Connor's eyes were red from forced concentration, and Murphy's thumb was probably bleeding.

Then the phone rang. Murphy dropped my hand and pulled his own from his mouth, reaching like a flash of lightning to pick the phone up into his hand. "Hello?" he asked, seeming to scream due to the anxiousness of his voice and the silence that had preceded his single word.

Connor and I both looked up at him with interest. The phone hadn't rung all day, it had to be him.

"Hey Roc, are ya okay?" Murphy asked, visibly more calm than he had been a moment ago. There was a pause and then he said, "Nah man, are ya sure yer okay?" There was another pause during which I assume Rocco answered and then Murphy pulled away, looking at the phone in confusion. Then he glanced at Connor and put the phone back on its base.

Just as Murphy slammed down the receiver, two women in too much make up and fake colored fur busted in, both double over in laughter as they stumbled around drunkenly, their teased hair going everywhere. The one Rocco was dating, Donna, looked up at us and giggled, but said nothing about us being here. Shortly after that, the two of them passed out on the couch.

Murphy got up to go light his cigarette with the stove burner and Connor was peeking inside the briefcase that held all the money we had collected last night.

I leaned back in my chair, my head leaning over the back of it with my eyes closed. I heard Murphy's footsteps come back into the room and then his lips pecked my own quickly. I grinned without opening my eyes. "I could get used to that."

Murphy chuckled and then the door was thrown open, making a loud bang as it collided with the other wall. Connor, Murph, and I jumped up, tense and ready for anything.

Rocco was sprinting into the room, a big bag in his hands. "Pack your shit! Pack your shit! We gotta get outta here! We gotta get out!" he was yelling, throwing records into his bag.

The two women on the couch woke up, drool coating the sides of their faces.

"What the fuck are ya talkin' about?" Connor asked, taking a tentative step towards the mad man.

"I killed them, oh Jesus, I killed them all," he was saying, still throwing anything he could get his hands on into the bag.

"Just calm down," Murphy said, grabbing the back of his coat and trying to pull him away from the cabinet. "Tell us what happened."

"No, no!" Rocco said, still frantically digging through junk.

"Rocco!" the two women called in unison from the couch.

"Calm down, man," Murphy tried again.

Rocco turned back to him, an iron with the cord rolled up around it in his hand. "You start gettin' excited motherfucker! We gotta go!" he yelled, brandishing his iron at Murphy.

"What the fuck?" I said quietly, unable to make any sense out of this. We followed him into the kitchen as the women stated calling his name again.

He was pulling cups and plates down and into his bag.

"Who did ya kill?" I asked.

"Well, how many were there?" Murphy asked, putting a hand on Rocco's shoulder.

But Rocco didn't turn around. "Fuckin' hurry the fuck up!"

As Rocco began to dart to another room to clean it out, Murphy got a large grin and waved a hand. "Alright! I love this shit!"

I held back a smirk at his crazy rambunctious Irish behavior.

"What the fuck is wrong with ya, Roc?" Connor asked as Rocco began swiping stuff off of the table and dumping it into his bag.

"Cock suckers sold me out!" he yelled, not stopping his scavenging.

"What did I tell ya, Roc?" Connor said, leaning over the table to him in interest. "Did they pull on ya first?"

"What am I doin'?" Roc asked, holding his arms out. "In the middle of Lakeview!" '

I leaned against Murphy as Connor asked incredulously, "Lakeview the deli, Roc?"

"Looks like we got us a new fuckin' recruit!" Murphy said happily, slapping Connor on the arm and turning to another bag, beginning to fill it with random stuff.

The two women screamed Rocco's name loudly at the same time.

"What?" he screamed back.

The two look taken aback by his sudden ferociousness. "Where's my cat?" Donna asked hesitantly.

Connor, Murphy, and I started packing stuff up as Rocco began spinning tales to his now-ex-girlfriend. After Rocco's yelling at the blond woman and pointing a gun at her, we were all ready to go. We headed out of the door and out to the car.

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><p><strong>And its back to business for the saints! :) Thanks for reading! Review! <strong>


	14. OBKB

CONNOR'S POV:

"Those rat fucks!" Rocco exclaimed, jogging with us to the car. "All of 'em were all laughin' at me, man."

"Are ya sure ya killed 'em, Roc?" Murphy asked, toting a few bags over his shoulder.

"Fuckin' A right I did, I had a goddamn turkey shoot over there," Rocco said, nodding.

"Listen, Roc, did anybody see ya?" I asked, tossing some rope into the backseat of the car.

"Fuck, man, I might as well have gone around postin' flyers." He banged a fist down onto the hood of the car. "Right out in public, man."

I hopped into the car. Kira and Rocco rode in the backseat while Murphy rode shotgun and I drove. We driving down a street back behind some old buildings nobody of any respectable business would own, when Rocco ordered for me to stop the car just outside a strip club. The Sin Bin.

"Vincenzo, that fat motherfucker, Yakavetta's right hand!"

I turned in my seat to look at him. He was sitting in the middle and Kira was leaning over on him from her spot behind me.

"He's the one who set me up then he went around shootin' his mouth off tellin' everyone I was as good as dead. Goes in there every night, 10:00, jerks off to the same titty dancer. Never misses."

Murph turned his head to gaze back at Roc.

"Yeah, so?" Kira asked, shrugging.

"So?" Rocco asked loudly. "So, lets kill the motherfucker! I mean, what are you guys? Like, that's your new thing, right?"

"Yeah, well-" I started, shaking my head.

"Ah, what the fuck! I mean who makes the cut? Is there a raffle or something?"

"Well, to tell ya the truth," Murphy said. "Those first ones, they just sorta fell into our laps."

"Well what do you do?" Rocco asked again.

I knew we couldn't tell him the honest truth and expect him to understand. "We haven't really got a system of deciding who, Roc. Its-" I trailed off.

Rocco looked back and forth between Murphy, Kira, and I. "Me! Me! I'm the guy! I know everyone, their habits, who they hang out with, who they talk to! I got phone numbers, addresses! I know who they're fucking! I know where they live! We could kill everyone."

I knew Rocco would be the perfect hookup for this. We could get the information on everyone involved in the crime syndicates and other shit like that and kill them before they had a chance to do anything worse.

"So what do you think?" Murphy asked, flicking the ashes off of the end of his cigarette.

I thought about it for a moment, scratching at my chin and staring out of the window. "I'm strangely comfortable with it."

Murphy and Kira gave small chuckles and Kira gave Rocco a high-five. We went back to Rocco's house and started getting our things ready.

"Boys, I'm not gonna be able to go with ya on this one," Kira said, tying her hair up.

"What do ya mean?" I asked, strapping my shoulder holster on.

She pulled an apron with a writing pad and a pen out from behind her back. "I've gotta work."

Murphy groaned and stood from the couch where he was lacing up his boots. He snaked an arm around her waist and pulled her to his chest. "Well, I'll miss ya anyway." He pecked her slowly on the mouth.

My face heated up and I cast my gaze downward.

Rocco stared in disbelief. "When the fuck-?"

I waved a hand. "Just don't, Roc."

Kira pulled away and skipped over to me. "See ya later, Con," she said with a smile, giving me a quick peck on the cheek.

I tried to give her somewhat of a grin.

Then she went over to Rocco. "Don't get killed on yer first time out, yeah?" and she grabbed his shoulders and kissed his cheek as well.

"Ha ha," Rocco said sarcastically as she made her way to the door, tying her apron on.

"I'll see you later, boys!" she called. Then she turned to Murphy and pointed a playfully threatening finger at him. "Don't fall for any stripers while you're out."

He made the same gesture to her. "Don't fall for any diner-attendants while you're out."

She rolled her eyes and closed the door behind her.

"Well, we ready, then?" I asked, taking a deep breath and looking around us at our supplies, trying to block out the image of Kira and Murphy so close.

Oo0oO

We waited in the alleyway across the street from the Sin Bin.

Rocco stood near the mouth of the alley and signaled us when Vincenzo Lapazzi pulled up. "That's him," he alerted us.

We crept closer, trying to get a good look. He kind of reminded me of Ron Jeremy, but it might have just been because he was going into this kind of a place and he was short and fat.

We found an entrance in the back of the place through the dressing room for the dancers. Murphy and I pulled on our masks and stood before the door.

"Okay, Roc," Murphy said, sounding like he was about to instruct him on what to do. But the second he caught a look at him, he burst out laughing.

I turned around to see what was so funny. Rocco was wearing what looked like an old tube sock with holes cut out using safety scissors.

"What? You guys got masks," he whispered defensively.

"Ya look like Mush Mouth from Fat Albert," Murphy responded.

I chuckled quietly.

"Fine, fuck it!" Rocco tore the "mask" from his head and threw it on the ground. "When we're through she can ID me. I don't care. Just tryin' to be professional, but noooooo!"

I clapped a hand onto his shoulder as Murphy continued laughing. "It looks fine," I lied.

"No, fuck it," he declined.

"No, shut the fuck up," I said, slapping the side of his head. "Ya look good. Put it on. Ya look fuckin' scary, man."

He picked the mask up off the ground and pulled it back over his head huffily.

"Now, Roc," I said as Murphy and I prepared to bust through the door. "Are ya sure that you're O-B-kay-B?"

Murphy and I were still laughing when we came through the beaded curtain.

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><p><strong>Sorry for the wait, guys! But with school almost out, I am back and (nearly) fully operational! :) Hope you enjoyed it! Thanks for reading! Review! :D <strong>


	15. Cowboy

SMECKER'S POV:

I tried to avoid hitting the bead curtain on the way into the strip club. Some of the pink beads were broken off and laying on the ground.

One of the dancers, a woman in possibly her thirties with black hair and smeared dark makeup, was sitting on a furry chair, skimpy clothes barely concealed by a pink shawl lined with lace. Duffy was sitting beside her, trying to console her or possibly get more information out of her on who had busted in. Her tears continued and she lifted the shawl over her shoulder, hugging it tighter to herself.

Dolly walked in front of me and cleared his throat. I followed him over to Duffy and the striper. "She was in here when it all went down."

"Can she ID them?" I asked, stuffing my hands in my pocket.

"No. They were wearing masks."

"Of course they were."

We stopped at a booth painted black that had bullet holes basically coating the walls. Ballistics specialists were digging slugs out of the walls.

"How many?" I asked, looking back at Duffy and the dancer.

"Three," Dolly said.

I looked back at him.

"Two did the shooting."

"Our little theory from last night just got shot to shit," I mumbled, looking around at the broken glass and bullet holes. "Something new is going on here."

It seemed like this hit was way more organized than the last. The busted in ceiling in the Russian's place had shown little potential for planned synchronization. This, however had been smooth. Nothing had gotten in the way. They came in, did what they came to do, and left scot-free.

The dancer left and Duffy told us everything she had revealed to him.

I sat on the fuzzy chair and toyed with a scarf of the same material. "After talking with the dancer, we know their mark was the guy in the middle booth. After she watched them whack him, she passes out. Why are there two extra victims?"

"Witnesses," Duffy offered.

"No way they could have seen," I stood up and walked over to one of the booths. "Allow me to enlighten you gentlemen to the protocol of the porno industry as I'm sure you've never been in one of these places before." I started gesturing to the areas I was talking about. "A man goes into the booth, puts the money through the slot, the dancer gets it on the other side. She hit's the button, door goes up. Now its only glass between you and its, uh- little fireman time."

Duffy nodded. "No way they could've seen it."

I pointed to the booths of the two anonymous kills. "Those doors were down, so that means this… they looked down, through the peeholes, saw these guys, opened the doors from the inside… pop, pop, pop, right through the glass. Why?"

"Maybe the three guys had something in common?" Dolly asked.

"Nah, this guy is big time," I said, pointing to the one in the middle. "These two are street walkin' scum."

"Maybe that's what they had in common. They're all bad guys. Now they're all dead bad guys." The fact that Greenly's hypothesis had some credibility to it scared me.

Then I remember the styles of attack. I pointed to the man in the middle. "Good shooting." Then the guys on the other sides. "Shitty shooting. Plus, we got us a genuine Kennedy-assassination style bullet theory here. Two guns were used. The guy in the middle was done with both of them. But this guy," I walked to the man on the right. "he was killed with bullets from gun A only and the other guy from gun B only. But ballistics dug two slugs out of the wall from B over here where the victim was done with A. And it's the same thing over here," I walked across the room to the other man. "Why the crossover?"

"That's just fuckin' weird," Dolly said. "I have no idea."

"Jesus I just cant think anymore," Duffy said around a yawn. "That scene over at the coffee shop today just tapped me out."

I looked up. "What scene?" I hadn't been informed of anything happening in this area all day until this.

"Some guys went nuts over off Com Ave," Duffy continued. "Shot three guys to death in the coffee shop, broad daylight, fled the scene. Don't have much on him."

"Why wasn't I informed of this?" I asked, getting in Duffy's personal space.

"They weren't related. Guy used a .38. No pennies, totally amateur," Greenly explained.

"Who were the victims?" I asked, not taking my eyes off of Duffy.

"A couple of mob peons and a fat fuck bartender."

"Oh, isn't that beautiful? All the lowlifes in quiet city Boston just start dropping dead and you think its unrelated! Greenly, the day I want the Boston police to do my thinking for me, I will have a fuckin' tag on my toe! Now get me a squad car and get me over there! I want crime scene photos and any witness statements now!" I shoved my way through the small gap between Dolly and Duffy and made my way to the door.

But then I realized something. I stopped in my tracks and head back to the middle of the room, pointing to the dead men on either side of me, one arm over the other as my arms crossed. "It looks like we got us a cowboy."

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><p><strong>Woo! Finally, an update, right? Well, you will all be pleased to know I am back and over my period of away-ness, I wrote a butt-ton of chapters for this story. :D So review! And thank you for reading! <strong>


	16. Time of Your Life

KIRA'S POV:

I yawned and leaned against the counter, staring up at the clock over the cook's window. Only ten more minutes and then I was off till Tuesday.

After taking the order of a couple by a window, I ripped the top sheet off of my notepad and stuck it on a pin outside the window. "Ed! Two cheeseburgers, no onions or ketchup, one medium chocolate shake, and a diet coke. Got it?"

"Aye, I got ya Kira," said the fat old Irishman behind the fryer.

"Kira, ya got another one," Betty, the cook's hand said, gesturing over the counter at a guy sitting on his own in one of the booths, most of him hidden behind the big menu.

But I would recognize that posture anywhere. It was signature MacManus stance.

I smiled and walked over, rolling my eyes. "Murph, what do ya want?"

He lowered the menu and gave a shocked look. But it wasn't Murphy. "Lass, did I hear ya right? Did ya just call me Murphy?"

I groaned. "Sorry, Con. Anyway, what are ya doin' here?"

"Just stopped by to see ya," he said, shrugging and leaning back.

"Well, where's Murphy? And Rocco?" I added Rocco in so I didn't feel as bad grilling Connor for info on Murph while I knew how he felt about me.

"They went back to Roc's. I told them I was gonna go get another pack of smokes. When do ya get off?"

I glanced back up at the clock. "In about twenty seconds."

"Sit with me for a minute," he said, smiling and gesturing to the seat across from him.

I untied the apron around my waist and sat down, my feet immediately relieved of immense pressure.

"The victims were found at a local adult entertainment parlor." I looked up at the small screen of the TV mounted on the wall of the diner. Sally McBride, the news anchor of South Boston's own channel 22 news, was giving us information on the shooting up the Sin Bin took earlier tonight. "These murders, coupled with the three suspected mob-related killings that occurred at this local Boston deli this afternoon brings the death toll to six, just today. There is no doubt that all the victims have been criminals. Perhaps this explains why a public outcry to have these crimes stopped has not been heard."

I looked back at Connor, an eyebrow raised.

He shrugged and leaned back cockily.

"So what did ya really come here for, Connor?" I asked, leaning forward and getting a bit quieter.

He got serious, leaning forward on his clasped hands. "I really don't know… I guess just to talk." He was staring down at his linked fingers, looking confused.

I frowned and grabbed his hand.

His eyes snapped up to me.

I gave him a small smile.

"Kira?" he asked, clearing his throat.

"Yeah?"

He looked down and then back up at me from under his eyelashes. "Do ya love him?"

I blinked a couple of times, sitting straight up. "What?"

He kept his gaze steady. "Do ya love Murphy?"

I sighed and looked down at our hands. "Of course I do."

He nodded his head and repeated quietly, "Of course you do."

I frowned. "I'm sorry, Connor."

He shook his head. "Its not yer fault, lass."

I cleared my throat to keep from crying. "So when is the next hit?" I made sure to keep my voice low so that the other three people dining here wouldn't hear.

"Not for a couple of days at least. Maybe two weeks."

I nodded. "Ya know what I miss, Connor?" I asked, gazing at our hands.

He made a "hmm" noise.

"When we used to sit up at night and talk. About everything. Out on the fire escape." A soft smile touched the corner of my lips.

Those had been simpler times. Almost a year ago maybe more. Every Thursday night, after Murphy had fallen asleep, Connor and I would meet up on the fire escape and talk about whatever we felt like we needed to talk about. Connor had always been sort of like a big brother to me, always providing assistance and comfort and anything else I could have needed.

Murphy would have done the same, but me having a humongous crush on him made it harder for me to ask him to do those kinds of things with me.

He chuckled. "We could still do it, ya know?"

I looked up at him. "Won't Murph think it's the tiniest bit suspicious? Us sneakin' off onto the fire escape together late at night?"

He shook his head with a scowl. "Murphy doesn't have to know. He's stayin' with Roc tonight. I can just tell him that I stayed at our apartment for the night. This can be just like it used to be. Just between you and me."

I thought about it and nodded. No reason I should have to leave Connor behind as a friend just because I'm with Murphy.

He grinned widely and stood from the booth, holding his arm out to me. I took it and he walked me out of the diner. It was pretty cold outside, the wind whipping around us. I exhaled and hugged my arms to me.

"Here," Connor said, holding out a side of his jacket.

I stepped closer to him so that he could use that side of the jacket to wrap me in it, holding me close.

Connor was pretty warm. And he smelled good, too. He and Murphy smelled completely different, though they lived with each other. Murphy smelled like chocolate and sunlight. Connor smelled like laundry detergent and my favorite men's shampoo.

We hurried over to our apartment complex and rode the elevator up. When we entered the building, I stepped out of his jacket, feeling guilty, though I didn't know why. "Thanks," I mumbled, smirking. I unlocked my door and turned the light switch on.

Connor shut the door behind him and hung his jacket on the coat rack by the door.

"Ya want anything?" I asked, searching my fridge for something.

"Ya got any alcohol?"

I peeked up from the fridge and cocked a brow at him. "Am I, or am I not, Irish?"

He chuckled and sat down on the couch.

I pulled out a large bottle of whiskey and two glasses. I sat down on the couch next to him.

"Maybe we had better stay inside," Connor said, glancing at the window to the fire escape. "If you were that cold out there on the ground, you're only going to be colder up here."

I nodded and poured him a glass.

After a few minutes of sitting together on the couch, drinking our whiskey and talking, I decided what we needed was music.

"Ya like Green Day?" I asked, standing from the couch, wobbling a little bit, and then making my way to my stereo.

"The fuck is Green Day?"

I laughed and popped the CD in, changing the song to a slow one and putting the music on low. I was turning around to go back to the couch when I bumped into Connor's chest.

"Ooof!" I squeaked, starting to fall over.

"Watch out!" Connor said, grabbing my arm and holding me still before I could fall.

"Thanks," I said softly, looking up at him, still pressed up against his chest.

My brain was dangerously clouded with alcohol and I could tell Connor's was too. I had to remember to keep this whole thing between us on a friendship level. I didn't want anything more from Connor but friendship and besides… Murphy was the one I loved.

"Ya wanna dance?" Connor asked, smirking, as the beginning of Time of Your Life started up.

I grinned and nodded. Dancing. This was just dancing.

Connor laid his arms over my sides and began slowly shifting around, both of us probably not doing anything close to dancing with all of the ethanol in our systems.

I could feel Connor's eyes on me, so I looked up. Our faces were closer than I thought they had been. The song began again; I had put this song on a loop.

He leaned in slightly.

"Connor, I don't think we should-"

"Shh," he whispered, softly squeezing my hand. "don't think."

And for some reason I listen, allowing him to slide his mouth onto mine. I slid my hand into his hair, screwing it up. But he didn't care. His hands stayed on my sides, gripping me firmly.

I tried over and over to tell myself "Quit it, you're Murphy's girl!" But I was too drunk to listen.

Things quickly escalated from the kiss. And in the morning, I woke up naked in bed with an equally naked Connor.

"Shit," I groaned, the chorus of Time of Your Life by Green Day still playing softly in the living room.

Connor stood, threw on some clothes and then we both locked eyes.

This wasn't supposed to happen. Neither of us had wanted this. Well, maybe Connor had, but I could see in his eyes that he hadn't wanted to betray his brother like this.

So, we simultaneously agreed, "Don't tell Murph."

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><p><strong>Ooooh! Scandalous :P Review please! Thanks for reading :) <strong>


	17. Don't Worry

KIRA'S POV:

Later that day, I met up with Murphy and Connor at Doc's bar. I walked in, looking around. Nobody but Connor, Murph, and Doc seemed to be there.

"Hey," Murphy said with a smile, sliding off his stool to give me a hug.

I felt immensely guilty. Especially when I caught Connor's eye over Murphy's shoulder. He seemed sad, but it was no longer because I was with his brother (all of the sexual tension seemed relieved after last night), but now because we had both betrayed his brother. I squeezed Murphy tighter, wondering how, even drunk, I could ever have done what I did.

"Kira," Connor nodded to me as I sat down by Murphy.

"What's on the agenda today, boys?" I asked, taking a large gulp of alcohol.

"Nothin' today. Nothin' for a couple days, actually," Murph said, toying with my hand on the bar.

Connor glanced over at us, glancing back and forth between Murphy and I before taking a last swig of his beer and standing from the bar. "I'm gonna get outta here and leave ya two lovebirds alone."

"So what do ya want to do?" Murphy asked after Connor had left.

I shrugged. "Wanna go back to my place?"

A slow smirk spread across Murphy's face. "Dear Kira, is that a pickup line?"

I rolled my eyes. "Yer mine now," I emphasized that by tugging his arm to me. "I don't need to use pickup lines."

"No, yer right." He grinned down at me and used his thumb to stroke my cheek. "All ya gotta do is look at me."

"You two kids get on outta here before I g-get s-s-sick."

We laughed at Doc and nodded, leaving him to the bar.

We walked in a comfortable silence down the street. It was a journey we had made thousands of times together over the years, but never hand-in-hand. The air outside was cold, but Murphy was warm, draping his arm around my shoulders and drawing me close.

"Ya want somethin'?" I asked when we stepped into my apartment.

He shook his head, following me in. "Just you."

"When did ya get so cheesy?" I asked, not minding at all that Murph seemed to be much more… poetically romantic.

He shrugged and pulled me to him, squeezing me as he lifted me up. His mouth met mine eagerly, pressing gently and making everything else disappear.

Oo0oO

"What are ya thinkin'?" Murphy murmured, his hand rubbing my bare shoulder lightly.

I tore my eyes from the ceiling and looked up at him. "How lucky I am."

He chuckled, the movement causing me to shake with his chest. "Lucky that ya ended up with a piss-poor Irish boy?"

I rolled my eyes. "My father would be happy just that yer Irish. But no, that's not why. Because I ended up with you."

"And why is that such a good thing?" he asked, pressing his lips to my hair.

"Because. Yer sweet, and about the cutest fuckin' Irish boy in the united states." I lifted my head to look up his naked chest at him.

He grinned. "And how do ya know that? You've never even been out of Boston."

I rolled my eyes. "I have faith in yer good looks, Murphy MacManus. They got me into bed, didn't they?"

He seemed to stop joking around for a moment, his face going serious as he looked down. "Kira," he started.

My heart beat faster. He wasn't about to ask about Connor and I, was he?

"Do ya love me?"

I sighed in relief. "Oh, Murph, of course I do."

He sighed and grinned. "Good. 'Cause I love ya, too."

I smiled widely and bent to kiss him, leaning on his chest.

Oo0oO

We sat down at a table in the little diner, Rocco and myself across from Connor and Murphy.

"Alright, let's talk some business," Rocco started. "I know a sick fuck makes the ones we been doin' look like altar boys. Worst night of my life when I met this guy. The guy never says a fuckin' word to me. We're drivin' 25 minutes, never a sigh, no throat clearing, nothing. His face - blank, man, just nothin' there. This guy takes out a whole family - wife, kids, everyone - like he's orderin' pizza. I knew if I didn't keep it together it was my ass. He has a poker game out back of his place with a bunch of wise guys every Saturday." He lowered his face, staring dejectedly at the table. "Worst night of my life, man."

I patted his back sympathetically.

"Well," Murph said. "I'm sold."

Connor nodded. "Don't worry, Roc, we'll do this guy right and you'll feel a lot better."

Rocco turned his head to look at me and I gave him an encouraging smile. "Listen to Connor, now. Don't worry."

* * *

><p><strong>More awesome gory, action in the next chapter! Thanks for reading! Review :) <strong>


	18. Fire Fight

MURPHY'S POV:

Connor, Roc, and Kira started loading their guns as I watched out the windshield for the little boy to ride his bike away from his house. "There he goes," I said with a nod as he pedaled away.

Connor opened the door and we all piled out, black shades and coats making us look like some kind of cult. But no one was around to pass judgment for whether or not we looked like devil-worshipers. We entered through the partially open garage door, making our way silently through the house. We were able to quickly and efficiently nab the guy's wife and tie her hands and put tape over her mouth.

Roc held her bound wrists as we walked up to the door of the little poker party. She knew the code for the alarm system - a keypad hidden in crawling vines. "Hit the numbers, lady. Hit the numbers," Roc was saying, shaking his gun at the back of her head. "I'll kill you. I will kill you!"

Kira laid an agitated hand on his arm. "Roc, ya fuckin' idiot, she cant; her hands are taped."

I pulled my knife out and quickly sliced through her bindings, allowing her to reach up and punch in the code.

Roc lifted his mask and looked at us irritably. "Why do I always gotta be on bitch detail?" He quickly pulled it back down again and used the stun gun on the woman when she was done with the buttons.

Someone came to the door, twisting the handle. Connor used that opportunity to kick the door the rest of the way in, pointing both of his guns up at the men in the room. Roc, Kira, and I followed him in. We paused for a moment, looking around at all the men.

"All of 'em," Roc demanded.

And just like that, our gloved fingers were pulling triggers left and right, burning holes through the flesh of all the men present at the game. Poker chips and cards flew, alcohol spilled, blood leaked. And we were just getting started.

Two of the men hid themselves under the pool table as they tried to reach for their guns, but Rocco stepped forward and turned, dropped to his knees, and began shooting again. We all removed our masks and dropped our guns.

Rocco was searching among the bodies, moving quickly and jerkily. "Shit! Shit!" he said, jumping up. "He aint here!"

I groaned. "Oh, what the fuck do ya mean, he isn't here?"

"I mean he aint here!" he retorted.

"Well look again, for fuck's sake!" Connor yelled. Kira was reloading her gun right by him on the ground by the door.

"I know what the fuck he looks like!"

The door to the room behind Rocco started to open. "Look behind ya!" I yelled, pointing at the men peeking out.

Roc ran for him, pulling his gun out as he tried to pry the door open. I was able to hear a single bullet shot, but I could also see the guy slam something into Rocco's hand. "Ah! Son of a-" he cut off and looked up at the man we had come for. "Oh shit!"

The man raced after him, grabbing him around the neck.

I was able to grab onto the man's shoulders, holding him back a bit.

"Shoot this motherfucker!" Roc yelled, trying to get out of his grasp.

Kira jumped up and leveled her gun at him.

"No!" Connor yelled, swatting Kira's gun away and running over to pull me off the man. Once free, he immediately pounced on Roc. "Now's yer chance to earn yer stripes, Roc!"

"He'll fuckin' get killed!" I said, breaking away from Connor.

"It was yer idea to bring him in!" He had a point there.

Kira was standing, tense beside me, hopping around on the balls of her feet, biting her lip and obviously resisting the urge to run to Roc's aid.

Connor was distracted by a man who was starting to get up, despite the several bullet holes in his body. He pointed his gun at the man and shot, catching the bullet in the air. Connor, ever the drama queen, used the bullet to cross himself.

While he was busy with theatrics, I grabbed the cue ball off the pool table and rolled it across the floor to Roc.

Using the ball as a weapon, Roc got the upper hand, knocking him up onto the couch and proceeding to beat the man's face in, yelling "sick fuck!" over and over. He threw himself off of the man and lunged at Connor. "Fuck you! Fuckin'-"

Connor was able to use Roc's momentum to turn around and throw him onto his back on the pool table.

Kira caught one look at the man's pulp-face and groaned, leaning heavily against my arm.

"Now take a fuckin' deep breath, there, Roc," Connor continued. "Ya did fine. It was nicely done." After a second's hesitation, Connor covered Roc's mouth with his hand and kissed it. When he pulled away, he gave his face a pat and walked away.

Roc was still breathing heavily.

We put our sunglasses back on and, bloodstained and tired, walked through the house and exited the front door.

We stopped abruptly on the porch, staring at a single man, white hair flowing to his shoulders under a black cap. There were black glasses covering his eyes and a cigar hanging from his mouth. Something about him was vaguely familiar. He threw the sides of his coat back and revealed the vest with six gun holsters built into it that was strapped around his torso. Six different types of guns. And he was reaching for them.

I pushed Kira behind me and we all drew our guns. Bullets flew, chipping paint and ripping through the wooden posts of the porch, windows smashed open on impact, Kira immediately tried to stand beside me again.

"Stay back!" I yelled to her over the noise.

"No!" she retorted, pulling her gun out and firing repeatedly.

But something I noticed; he seemed to be avoiding pointing his gun at Kira. I was grateful for it, but also somewhat confused.

"He's not shooting at me," she murmured to herself. After making this discovery, she stepped forward in front of us.

I didn't care that he wasn't shooting at her, I still didn't want her to be standing on the front lines of this. I grabbed her arm before she could get any farther and tried to pull her back.

But I got her shot. And not just in the leg or the arm. The bullet pierced her just in the ribs. And the bullets didn't stop. He had fired one bullet after another just before he realized she was standing there. Three bullets total, all struck her in her abdomen. The first one in her rib cage, the second just in the middle of her torso, and the third in the shoulder.

"Kira!" I yelled as she collapsed.

The man seemed to falter when he learned that he had shot her. That gave Connor and Rocco the opening they needed. One of their bullets hit him in the shoulder, causing his gun to fly from his hand as his arm jerked.

I was shot in the upper arm and jumped into the bush beside me, shooting out of the leaves. "You mother fucker!" I yelled. For Kira. I would kill him for Kira. Even as the man fled down the street, I continued shooting after him.

Connor called my name several times, but I didn't stop shooting until he was out of sight. As Connor and I hastily sprayed ammonia on the blood stains decorating the porch, Rocco gathered up the bags and guns. I bent to pick Kira up in my arms and we ran back to the van.

Oo0oO

We burst in through the door and into the kitchen. While Roc and Connor argued over whether or not Roc knew the man that had attacked us, I laid Kira down on the bed. She was covered in blood and she wasn't moving, but her chest was rising and falling in spastic uneven patterns.

The next few moments were the most painful of my life. I went first. It was even worse than actually removing the bullets.

We heated the iron up on the stove burner. We placed a white cloth around my mouth, gagging me. Rocco held me down as Connor pressed the searing iron down onto my upper arm. I bit down hard on the gag and shook around, my rosary dangling from my neck. I could see the smoke coming off of my arm. But Connor didn't stop, mercilessly pressing harder.

Next, I cauterized Rocco's stub of a finger. Connor held him back, pulling on both ends of Roc's cloth gag.

One of the hardest things I've ever had to do was hold onto my twin brother's gag as Roc pressed the iron onto his thigh. I squeezed my eyes shut tight, feeling the pain right along with him, trying to let him draw some kind of comfort from having his brother there. His hand flew up behind him, holding the back of my head.

We wrapped our cleaned wounds up and went to Kira. Her eyes were still closed, her breathing getting shorter and shorter.

"We cant do this. We have to get her to a hospital," I said, unwilling to compromise her health for a bloodied up iron that may or may not even work depending on how deep her wound was. It was bad enough I had to let Connor do it.

"What if they ask questions?" Connor asked, limping over to me.

"We'll tell them we found her in an alley, all shot up. When she wakes up, we'll tell her to tell them she doesn't remember anything." I couldn't stand to look at her, fearful that the pain of my bullet wound, holding Connor down while his leg got fried, and seeing her in this condition would force me to tears.

He thought it over but eventually nodded.

We got changed into clean clothes (ones that hid our bandages) and carried her with us to the hospital. We fed them the story we had cooked up. We were walking in the streets and we heard some gunshots and went to check it out and found her laying on the ground, three bullet holes in her.

They took her, no more questions asked, but I hated to send her off without me there to sit by her side, but I had to get back and tend to this wound the rest of the way before it got infected. Then I would be back to sit by her side until she woke up.

* * *

><p><strong>There's another chapter! :) Thanks for reading, please review! :D <strong>


	19. Yakavetta

KIRA'S POV:

I fluttered my eyes open slowly, the beeping of a machine reminding me of something… A hospital. My eyes were slow adjusting to the bright lights above me.

"Kira?" the voice was familiar but muffled, like I was hearing a voice from underwater. Slowly, the voice became more focused. "Kira? Kira! Yer awake!"

I looked over blearily.

Murphy. He was smiling, eyes red, his hand brushing the hair back from my face. "Kira, sweetheart, yer alright."

I opened my dry mouth and spoke, my voice rusty from disuse. "Where am I?"

He scowled. "A hospital."

I knew what kind of bad things could happen if the police even caught a whiff of something odd about them being here. Especially after they found the house we had torn up. "Why did you bring me here? Ya could get caught."

He shook his head with a smirk. "I don't care, Kira. Ya could've died."

I looked down at his arm. I remembered that he had gotten shot after I fell. I could still hear through the black haze. "What about your shots? And Connor's and Rocco's?"

He grimaced. "It was nasty. We had to use an iron…" He looked around over his shoulder and then lifted his shirt sleeve, exposing his toned upper arm. There was a white bandage wrapped around it, blood splattered over it.

I frowned. "What about Rocco and Connor?"

He glanced behind him. "They're outside right now. Connor got shot in the leg, he's fine, just limpin' around a lot. Rocco got his finger shot off. He's alright now. He's adjustin' fine to life without a pinkie."

I scrunched my nose in distaste, but I was smiling, glad to hear that all of my boys were fine.

There was a pause in which the smile slowly slid from his face. "I'm so sorry, Kira. This is all my fault. If I hadn't pulled ya back-"

"Murphy. This isn't yer fault. This just happened. Obviously the Lord has got plans for me being like this."

He sighed but nodded.

"Can you bring Conn and Roc in? I want to see all of you."

He nodded and stood. "Of course." He kissed me quickly and left the room.

I sighed in contentment. Sure my torso hurt like hell, but I was in good hands (those of doctors) and now my family was here. I tried not to move too much because even just breathing hurt. But I was on the mend.

Murphy entered the room once more, this time closely followed by Rocco and Connor.

"Kira, my God," Connor said, obviously distressed at the sight of me.

I blushed self-consciously. Rocco and Connor rushed to either side of my bed.

"Yer alright, then, arentcha?" Connor asked grabbing one hand.

"I lost my pinkie, see?" Rocco said, holding up his hand, bandaged and cut short where his smallest finger should be. He seemed to be trying to cheer me up. I don't know how he thought a missing finger would work but, surprisingly enough, it did. He grinned and took my other hand.

I squeezed both his and Connor's. "I love ya guys," I said, smiling as I leaned back against my pillows. I winced when the movement caused a spike in pain.

Murphy ran forward. "Are ya okay?" I nodded, trying not to move anymore. "It just hurts when I move."

All three of them frowned.

"How long have I been out?" I asked, looking up at Murphy, who was standing behind Connor at the head of my bed.

"Three days."

My eyes widened. How had I been passed out for that long? I guess a day per bullet… Ugh… "I am gonna have some ugly scars after this," I groaned, letting my head fall back.

The boys chuckled. "Don't worry about that," Murphy said close to my ear, planting a kiss on my forehead.

"When's the next hit?" I asked.

"We're heading for Yakavetta in half a week," Rocco said, gazing at the blood that had seeped through my hospital gown long before.

"Good, good. Just get me out of here by then and we'll be set."

Everyone sat silently. "Kira, what are ya talkin' about?" Murphy asked incredulously.

"Well, I'm comin' with ya."

Connor started laughing. "Are ya insane, woman? Ya've been shot three times, each near yer chest. Ya think we're gonna let ya go in there with some of the most dangerous men in Boston gunnin' for us, and while yer all dinged up?"

I narrowed my eyes at him. "I'm not dinged up. And I'm goin' with ya. I'll be fine by the time it comes around."

"Ya still wont even be admitted out of the hospital by then," Murphy said quietly, speaking sensibly.

I sighed. "I cant just sit here while ya all go in there. I might be pretty fucked up right now, but I don't like the idea of any one of ya goin' in there where I wont know what's happenin'. And we've been waiting for Yakavetta since this started. Its been buildin' up to this moment, even when we didn't know it. I'm not just gonna sit this one out, boys."

"Oh, I think that's exactly what yer gonna do," Connor said, gripping my hand urgently. "We wont be comin' to check ya out until after the doctors say yer ready. They wont let ya out of yer room, let alone the buildin'. Yer not comin' with us, Kira. Yer gonna stay right here, and get better for us, alright?"

I sighed and nodded. There was no way around this. "Alright."

I knew what Connor was saying made sense, but there was no way I was just sitting here while the three people I cared about most went into a very dangerous situation. But I pretended to consent to his wishes so he would lay off me. I was planning on sneaking out.

"Alright, well, we'll let ya get some rest then," Connor said, standing and kissing my cheek. Even Rocco gave me a goodbye cheek-kiss. Connor and Roc left the room.

Murph still stayed by my side. He knelt down to me. "Kira, I promise I will kill the fucker that did this to ya."

I shook my head. "Don't go out looking for revenge, Murphy-boy," I took his hand and held it to my cheek. "I don't want ya hurt."

He leaned forward and kissed me, slow and gentle. He didn't seem to want to pull away, and I didn't want him to. But eventually, he had to end the kiss. "I love ya," he whispered as he stood.

"I love ya, too." The door closed behind him and I could see his shadow against the blinded windows, making his way down the hall.

FOUR DAYS LATER

SMECKER'S POV:

"That's all you can give me?" I asked irritably into the receiver of the payphone.

"The light hit the side of his face," Connor MacManus replied on the other end. "Looked like he had a gray beard. Maybe late 50's, early 60's."

I stared at the booth I disbelief. Greenly had been right? "So you're telling me it was one guy with six guns and he was a senior freakin' citizen?"

"Yeah, and its better if we find this man before he finds us again."

"I'll see what I can do. How do I get in touch with you?"

"We hit Papa Joe's tonight, right in the comfort of his own home. We had another who wanted to come with us, but she's in the hospital right now. That old man put her there. So its only three of us."

Ah, yes, I remembered the girl. Rather pretty and both boys seemed to take notice to that.

"Be careful," I warned him.

"Alright. We'll call ya tonight, afterwards." He hung up.

I had a bad feeling in the pit of my stomach.

KIRA'S POV:

It was stupid, I knew it, but I wasn't going to just let them go and leave me there in the hospital. I had made some progress. My every move didn't cause me to cry out. I was just really sore.

After the nurse left my room, I opened the window to my room and lifted myself out, happy I was on the ground floor. I cringed as my wounds pulled but ignored it and made my way down the streets to Yakavetta's house.

Connor and Murphy had dropped off some of my own clothes a few days ago, deciding I might like to have some of my stuff around me. I had changed into it and put the hospital gown on over my regular people clothes. Before jumping out of the window, I had rid myself of the crappy material gown.

It was nighttime by the time I got there and my breath was wheezing itself out of me. I walked up to the door, glancing around. I had no weapons with me, but I was counting on Conn and Murph to have enough guns to cover me. I could see the van down the street a little way. They were here.

I snuck around through the back and saw that the garage door was open the tiniest bit. I snuck under it, trying my hardest to ignore my aching abdomen and shoulder. I looked around a bit, but I guess I wasn't cautious enough.

A man saw me and said, "Hey, what are you doing?" He didn't give me any time to say something, only grabbed my wrist.

I tried to twist out of his hold, but my wounds were giving me little to work with. He finally saw why it was I wasn't doing so well and decided to get me down. He threw a swift punch just under the bullet wound in the direct middle of my torso, immediately under where my ribs came to a point.

I doubled over, the wind knocked out of me. I couldn't see for the darkness of the room and the white spots placed randomly around. My ears started ringing loudly. I couldn't make a single sound come out of my mouth. I could only vaguely wonder why someone would decorate there garage with such oddly placed lights.

"Come on," the man snarled, grabbing my hair and pulling me with him. He dragged me down a dark hallway with some stairs to what I assumed was a basement.

I could hear some struggling on the other side. Where were Connor and Murphy?

The man pushed me up against the wall. "Stay right there." He didn't have to worry about me going anywhere; I could hardly stand up straight. He turned and opened the door.

I could only see the other wall across from me in that room, but there must have been something to the left because that's where the man turned. "Papa Joe, I gotta girl here, what do ya want me to do with her?"

"Kira? Kira!" I heard the mixed voices of Connor and Murphy.

"Conn! Murph!" I called back, my voice cracking with pain and fear.

I could hear another voice (probably Papa Joe) speaking in Italian.

The man chuckled and nodded, turning and walking back to me, a menacing look on his face.

"Kira!" the boys continued to call. I heard Rocco yelling right along with them.

"You come right along with me, now, sweetheart," the man said, giving me a smile that made me want to knock his teeth in.

All I needed was a little energy to swing my fist. Unfortunately, I couldn't expend that energy unless I wanted to fall over right here in the enemy's house. And what would I have gained? Even worse treatment and a swollen cheek on the man handling me.

Connor and Murphy MacManus captured. All was lost, then.

As I was led away, I could hear a gunshot. And then Connor and Murphy yelling Rocco's name over and over. Tears slid silently down my cheeks. All I wanted to do was curl up into a ball and go to sleep. Maybe forever.

* * *

><p><strong>;( Rocco... Thanks for reading! Please review! :D <strong>


	20. Seas Apart

IL DUCE'S POV:

I used the butt of my gun to knock out the man dressed as a woman, leaving him there in the middle of the floor.

I turned and followed the sounds of a woman in distress. The noises of panic led me to a room upstairs.

A man was standing with his back to me, struggling with the crying girl in his arms and getting his pants off.

She was mumbling something, choked sobs interrupting the three names she was repeating. "Connor… Rocco… Murphy…"

My eyes widened. But no, it couldn't be…

I pulled my knife out and reached around the man's shoulders, slicing a long line across his throat. He gurgled and dropped to the floor.

The young woman looked up, hazel eyes widening in fright. She had obviously gotten hit quite a few times by the man I had just killed. Bruises were scattered across her face and there was even a cut above her eyebrow.

"You," she said, pointing up at me. She sucked in a gasp and grasped at her bandaged ribs.

I grabbed her hand and helped her to sit on the bed. "I'm not here to hurt ya, lass." Perhaps now was also the time for an apology, since it was obvious she remembered the pain I had inflicted on her. "I'm sorry I shot ya."

"You'll be more sorry," she broke off, grunting in pain. "when Connor and Murphy get a hold of ya."

"Shh," I said, helping her to lay back on the bed. "Rest now, little dove. Yer goin' to need it."

She listened, leaning back and, seemingly hypnotized by my words, her eyelids fluttered closed. I left her in the room, confident that she would be fine on her own now that all the men in the house were taken out.

Connor and Murphy, eh? Could it really be… Was it my sons?

I made my way downstairs, pulling my guns out just in case, and entered the basement. I peeked in.

Inside I saw two men on their knees in front of another man, apparently dead, still chained to his seat. The one on the left was dark-haired, the other had lighter colored hair. Both were obviously very depressed. Their voices said as much.

They began to pray, catching my attention. It was them!

"And shepherds we shall be," they started, sounding utterly broken. "For Thee, my Lord, for Thee. Power hath descended forth from Thy ha-"

They cut off when they heard the un-cocking of my gun. They hesitated before simultaneously turning back to me, a gun each pointed at me.

I took slow steps toward them, the guns no longer in my hands. "That our feet may swiftly carry out Thy command. We will flow a river forth unto Thee."

Connor, the light-haired one, un-cocked his gun. Murphy seemed to be struggling with the idea that we could be related, given that he had probably vowed to kill me because of what I had done to his woman (I could tell they were together just by the way he had reacted to her every move during our showdown in the streets not so long ago).

"and teeming with souls shall it ever be."

They lowered their guns, looking curiously up at me.

I finished up the prayer in Latin, crossing myself in the process. I lowered my hands and placed one on each of their bloodied cheeks.

Boys. My boys.

MURPHY'S POV:

I didn't want to do it. But I knew I had to. Police all over Boston, hell probably all over the United States, were looking for us after what had happened with Yakavetta's trial. I had to see her one last time, though.

When I entered the room, she was still asleep.

She was brought into intensive care after our night in Yakavetta's home and still hadn't woken up. They were afraid she might be in a coma. With her three bullet wounds ripped open from the unhealthy amounts of movement she had been doing, a newly broken arm, and a face full of bruises to go with the cut on her forehead, she looked like hell.

And still, I couldn't stand walking away. I approached her bed slowly, knowing I would have to make it fast since what we had done at the trail was probably spreading around right now.

I slipped the folded up piece of paper into her hand and closed her fingers around it. With a single last kiss on her forehead, I left the room, and Kira, probably forever.

KIRA'S POV:

When I woke up, there was a piece of paper folded up in my hand.

"Someone left that for you the other day," the nurse explained. "You've been out for a week and a half. I guess it wasn't a coma, then. I'll go find some food for you. You need something in you." She nodded to me and left the room.

It was too soon after waking up for me to make sense of what she had been saying. I looked down at the note, blinking repeatedly to get my eyes a little less dry.

I unfolded it and began to read.

"_Dear Kira, _

_I'm sorry I had to do this. Trust me, I didn't want to. Especially not with you asleep. But things are getting too hot in Boston for me and Connor. _

_I know you hate him and I thought I did for a while, too, but the man that shot you is my father. Noah MacManus. _

_By the time you're reading this, if you ever get the chance to, I will already have left the United States for Ireland with Conn and Da. We killed Yakavetta. He killed Rocco. I'm sorry, I know I'm pretty much leaving you with no one. _

_But I love you. Forever. _

_Murphy MacManus._"

I clamped a hand to my mouth and tried to hold in a tremendous sob. On top of physically feeling like shit, Murphy MacManus, the only man I had ever loved, was now not even in the same country as me. And probably never would be again.

I stared dejectedly at his scrawled signature for a while until the nurse came back in with a tray of food. After she left, I didn't even touch it. I couldn't even think about food right now.

Later in the day, a knock came at my door.

"Come in," I called, conscious of the cracking of my voice.

A friendly looking man with gray-ing hair (though he didn't look like he was old enough to have that color hair) came in. He smiled at me and closed the door behind him before walking over to the chair beside my bed. There was a nametag on his shirt pocket that said "Detective Duffy".

"Detective Duffy?" I asked, trying to hide the letter from Murphy. If the cops found this, they could find him.

"Don't worry about hiding that," he said, pointing to my hand creeping behind my pillow. "Me and some other of our detectives helped the boys to trap Yakavetta in the court room when they killed him."

I lowered my hand. "So yer on our side? I-I mean… their side." It was going to be hard not referring to myself as part of the MacManus brothers. But how could I be when we were countries and seas away?

"Well, I uh, kinda promised Murphy I would make sure you were taken care of. I guess he forgot to mention how beautiful you are."

I felt my face heat up as I looked down at my hands. "So, Detective Duffy-"

"Please, call me Derrick."

I nodded. "Right, then. Derrick. Can ya tell me how long they plan to stay gone."

He sighed, looking like this was the last question he wanted to be answering. "As far as I know… Indefinitely."

I felt my heart sink, my stomach turn to ice. The food on the tray in front of me became even less appetizing.

"Well, umm, do you need anything?" he asked, seeming eager to help. He seemed friendly enough.

I shook my head. "No." Nothing he could give me.

"Well," he said, standing. "I'll be back to check on you tomorrow. I've made it my personal goal to make sure you end up okay. Murphy would have wanted you safe." He tagged that on at the end as if to make his "goal" seem less like he was hitting on me and more like he was looking out for a mutual friend.

And for some reason, I found it endearing. I felt the corner of my mouth pull upward, but it wasn't quite a smile. I wouldn't be able to smile like I had before in quite a while. "Thank you. Derrick."

He nodded and started backing up. "Right," he tripped over the leg of a chair, but caught himself before he could hit the floor, heading for the door quicker than before and with a bright red face. "See you tomorrow."

The door clicked shut behind him. I looked down into my hand at the crumpled piece of paper. "See you tomorrow."

THE END

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><p><strong>And there we have it. The end to The Third Saint... at least the first one ;D Thank you guys for reading, favoriting, reviewing, and following! I 3 you all. <strong>


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